Darkness Falls
by Dark Aegis
Summary: When does adventure turn to danger? Is it the instant the locals start shooting? Or the instant you get shot? A Ninth Doctor and Rose Tyler story.
1. Chapter 1: Nightfall

**Title:** Darkness Falls  
**Authors:** Gillian Taylor  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters:** Nine/Rose  
**Summary:** When does adventure turn to danger? Is it the instant the locals start shooting? Or the instant you get shot?  
**Spoilers:** None, specifically.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.  
**Archive:** Sure, just let me know.

**A/N:** Thanks, as always, to my lovely betas WMR, Ponygirl & NNWest. This story is dedicated to NicoleS for 'stumping' me in my 'Stump the Author' meme.

* * *

**"Darkness Falls"  
By Gillian Taylor**

**Chapter 1: Nightfall**

Darkness.

It surrounded her, bathed her in nothingness so thick she could practically taste it. This planet had no stars, no moon, no means of seeing anything without the means of a torch. All she could feel was his hand in hers. All she could hear was the sound of their breathing.

"Careful," the Doctor whispered. "There's a rock just in front of you." He guided her around it with a touch.

"How much further?" she asked, not wanting to think about what followed behind them. They couldn't move quickly, not in this darkness. She was completely reliant on the Doctor to guide their steps until the sun rose over the horizon, whenever that was supposed to be.

"Another mile. Maybe two," he replied.

In the darkness, her senses seemed sharper somehow. Vision was useless, of course. Hearing, though… She stiffened as she caught the sound of something – no, several somethings – coming after them in the dark.

His hand tightened on hers as he commanded, "Run!"

She trusted him enough to do as he said, stretching out her legs, following the unspoken directions that he gave via a tug of her hand. She cursed this darkness. How was she supposed to be able to help if she couldn't even see?

There was a whistling sound now, almost like the rain, though she didn't feel anything fall on her. It was everywhere, really. She could hear the Doctor grunt – in pain? – beside her and his running faltered.

"Doctor?" she asked, but he didn't answer, instead turning them into another direction. God, if only she could see!

Her world narrowed to running. The sound of their feet hitting the rocky ground, the sound of her blood thundering in her ears and the fear. Oh, the fear, because she knew what was chasing them. What would happen if they caught them.

The planet's native population rightfully feared the dark. Now she knew why. Oh, god, did she know why.

She thought they might be gaining ground, outdistancing their pursuers. The whistling sound was fading, too, and she wondered if she might've only imagined it. However, they still ran. It seemed like an eternity, though perhaps only minutes, before they slowed.

The Doctor tugged her hand again, weakly, to the right and she obligingly turned. The sound of their walking seemed to echo strangely now. She realised that even the slight wind was gone. They were inside somewhere. Somewhere safe? A cave?

That was when she felt his fingers slip from her grasp and the soft thud of someone hitting the ground. The Doctor.

Mindful of their hunters, she bit back her automatic cry, instead sinking to her knees and feeling around her for his body. The soft leather of his jacket was the first thing that she touched and she followed it around his torso. There was something…there. It was sticky and wet. There hadn't been any rain since they'd been here. Why would he be…?

Oh. Oh, god.

She lifted her hand to her nose and sniffed. There was a sharp tang to the smell, maybe a hint of iron. It was blood. The Doctor's blood.

There wasn't enough time to panic. She couldn't afford it, not now. She moved closer and touched him, flushing slightly as she felt along his body for other wounds. Sight was a problem, of course. She'd have to rely upon touch alone, until dawn, to determine the extent of his injuries.

"Doctor?" she asked, deciding to risk the chance of someone hearing her.

Nothing. Just the shallow sound of his rough breathing.

Right. She was on her own, then. Letting her senses guide her, she paused each time she felt another spot of blood. There was so much, she realised. Her fingers were sticky with it and she could barely feel the leather or his jeans as she moved her hands. No. She had to deal with what she'd already found.

Again, she cursed her lack of sight. This was near impossible, but she had to do it. Had to save him. She wasn't ready to lose him. Not here, not now, not ever.

Keeping one hand on him as a reference, she used her other to unzip her hoodie. It'd do as a temporary bandage, at least until she could find something better. Pulling her arms out of it without losing contact with him proved difficult, but not impossible. Once it was free, she found what she assumed was the site of the injury – at least judging by the amount of blood – and pressed down on it as hard as she could.

He gasped in pain, the first sound he'd uttered since falling to the floor.

"Doctor?" she asked again, but he didn't answer. She assumed he'd relapsed back into unconsciousness.

What were the basics of first aid? She knew that she had to keep pressure on his wounds to staunch the bleeding, but what else? Keep him warm? How the hell was she supposed to do that? She couldn't even see, let alone build a fire or…

She frowned. Well, there was always body heat. She was definitely flushed now, she realised. She shifted again, keeping pressure against the wound. Using one hand to maintain the pressure, she moved her hand up his torso until she found his neck. Pressing her fingers against the side of his neck, she tried to feel for his pulse.

When she felt the double-beat, she almost drew away from him in shock. Two pulses? No. He was an alien. So what if he had two pulses? Two hearts? Why the hell should that matter?

_Because I don't know what to do to save a human, let alone an alien!_ a part of her replied in despair.

Resolutely ignoring that thought, she focused on what she could do. Her arms were starting to get tired, but she couldn't afford to release the pressure. She doubted that she could shift him enough to tie her hoodie around his body as a makeshift bandage, even if that was the only chance she could see of relieving her need to maintain the pressure. Without her sight, she couldn't tell if the bleeding was slowing or not. She couldn't even tell if he was bleeding anywhere else that she hadn't already noted.

"Don't die on me," she whispered.

As she expected, he didn't answer.

* * *

It had all started because of a request. She'd asked to go somewhere he'd never been before. A first time for both of them. God, how she regretted that now.

In the thick, almost stifling darkness, she let her thoughts dwell upon her first view of this planet – Nerfalis-something. It had been breath-taking. Gorgeous purple sky, brilliant blue-coloured rocks and a blazing white sun overhead. She would've been happy to simply sit and watch for a few hours, bask in the beauty of the world, but that wasn't what they tended to do.

Too ape-like, for one. A strangled sob escaped her lips and she firmly stopped herself from making another sound. He'd be fine, she reminded herself. He had to be. She just wished… Well, that didn't matter, now did it?

If wishes were horses…

Shaking her head, she remembered the village. It had been an hour's walk away from the TARDIS, the distance between the two points deceptive in the reflected light of the planet's surface. When they had reached the village, the locals were even more alien than the ones she'd seen on Platform One. They resembled large, crystalline spiders and it had taken her several moments to get over her instinctual urge to back away from them. She'd been thankful that they were friendly. The last thing she'd wanted was to have to run from something that looked like that.

They had been warned, repeatedly, to seek shelter before nightfall. When they'd pressed for more details, the spider-like beings had refused to tell them more than that their legends were adamant. They were scared of the dark, she had realised.

She and the Doctor had been caught outside after nightfall. Even the cheerful blaze of lights from the village couldn't mask the pitch darkness that surrounded the area. They'd heard a scream…

She closed her eyes against the memory, not wanting to relive the moment that they'd come across the body. Not wanting to remember the limbs and the…

"No," she said, the word echoing ominously around her. She shivered in the darkness and moved even closer to the Doctor. Her body was starting to tremble from exhaustion, but she refused to give in. She had to remain alert.

The soft sound of his breathing was her only comfort at the moment. She longed for the light of day. It seemed as if the night lasted an eternity, and always would. Each time she'd thought the darkness seemed less dense it had turned out to be nothing more than her imagination.

She was about to shift again to ease her numbed limbs when she heard it. It was a soft sound, barely noticeable. In the day, she probably would have dismissed it as nothing important. But now she couldn't afford to do that. She identified it as the scattering of pebbles – kicked by a foot? – somewhere nearby.

She froze, straining her senses in an attempt to locate where the sound was coming from. She didn't know if they'd been found out or not. She could only hope that…

"Krr-nalish reeeenal'tk," someone said. A language, perhaps? But why wasn't the TARDIS translating it for her? She should be able to understand whatever was being said around her. Her fear – it had never left her, really, just got pushed aside for other, more important matters – notched upwards. She had to understand what was going on. Had to know.

She heard more movement, more stones shifting. She thought that there might be at least two people, if not more, just outside the cave.

_Don't look. Don't look. Don't look._ She chanted the words in her mind.

"Ill'hesha cral'tk somewhere nearby."

What? The Doctor shifted slightly beneath her hands. She prayed that he wouldn't make a sound.

"Sunrise comes. Ushalret yerantis." The shift between English and alien was disconcerting, to say the least. However, whatever the person said seemed to mean that they were leaving. She waited until the noise of their departure faded into nothingness before she dared to move.

Her body ached, pins and needles chased up and down her limbs as she tried to find a slightly more comfortable position. She decided to ease the pressure she'd been keeping on the Doctor's wound, hoping that time had slowed the flow of blood to a stop. Leaving her hoodie where it was, she began to touch him, trying to feel any more wet-spots that might mean she'd missed something.

Thankfully, there was nothing. His continued unconsciousness was worrying, though. But how could she know? He was alien. What if this was his typical response to a wound? No. She'd seen him bash his hand before, drawing blood and he hadn't lapsed into unconsciousness then.

God, what did she know? She was just guessing now. And if the TARDIS wasn't working, or whatever it was that caused her to understand languages, she couldn't go for help – provided, of course, that she could find the village let alone lead anyone back here. Besides, even if she did manage to get into the village, what could she do? There was no guarantee that any attempt at charades would even be understandable to the spider-people.

Bloody hell.

Despair was an easy trap to fall into, but she refused to give herself the luxury. She was tired, hungry, thirsty, scared, worried and any number of other things but she couldn't give into any of them.

"Rose," he said and she almost jumped in shock.

"Doctor?" she asked hopefully, but he only groaned and was silent once more. Shit.

She glanced in the direction of the cave's opening and realised that the darkness had gained a greyish tint. Dawn, she realised. It was finally coming. She changed her position slight so that one hand was still resting on the Doctor's back while the rest of her was angled towards the entrance. She wanted to be ready the instant that she could see farther than, well, her eyelids.

It might've been minutes or hours later, but she was finally able to see where she was. It was a cave, a fairly deep one at that. She was just thankful that it was uninhabited. After she saw what roamed the planet at night, the last thing she wanted to encounter was their version of a wolf.

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she turned her attention to the Doctor. In the faint light, she could see that his face was bloodied, but not badly. Head wound of some sort, probably from falling to the ground. However, when she turned her attention to his torso, she finally saw what she'd felt the previous night.

Her hoodie wasn't completely covering the wound, and from what she could see it was nasty. The leather was caked with blood and she could see even more oozing slowly onto the fabric. She needed to remove his jacket somehow, and his jumper. Anything to prevent the clothing from infecting the wound. She couldn't clean it much, of course, but she had to do something.

Frowning, she tried to ease one of his arms out of the jacket, wincing each time she moved him. She was thankful that he was unconscious for this. It was hard to be gentle when she shifted him, especially given his inability to assist.

It took several minutes to wrestle his limp arms out of the jacket. With every moment, she feared that he'd regain consciousness, but he mercifully didn't. Now that his limbs were free, she tried to determine the easiest way to remove the jacket from the wound. If she did it quickly, it might cause more damage. Slowly, it might do the same.

Erring on the side of 'get it over with', she ripped the jacket free with one sharp tug. He groaned at the movement and she grimaced as she was able to see the extent of the wound itself. Whatever had hit him, it'd done a great deal of damage. His flesh was puckered in places, oozing fresh blood. Bits of dirt and cloth were sealed to the injury with caked blood and she did her best to clean it with the small bit of her hoodie that wasn't soaked through.

Removing his jumper would be far too much effort, she realised. She couldn't manoeuvre his torso enough to pull it over his head. And she didn't have anything to use to cut it away from his back. So she'd have to make do with what she did have. Glancing down at herself, she frowned. He needed a fresh bandage.

When she lifted her hands from him, she was arrested by the sight of blood – his blood – coating her fingers. It was everywhere. On her clothing, on her body, on him. His blood…

She swallowed the lump that built in her throat, telling herself that the dampness she felt on her cheeks weren't tears. He wasn't going to die. Not. Now.

New bandage. She could do that. Thankful that she'd worn another T-shirt beneath this one, she tugged it off herself and tried to rip it into two. At least that way she would have two bandages. However, the fabric proved far tougher than she'd expected, so she had to use it as it was. Pressing it against his wound, she didn't think she needed as much pressure this time. There definitely wasn't as much blood as before, just from what she'd re-opened by removing the jacket.

"You'd better not bleed any more, Doctor. I'm afraid I need this shirt," she told him, even though he couldn't hear her. There was something comforting about hearing her own voice, but she was still mindful that their pursuers might still be out there. Giving the Doctor one last look, she forced herself to stand and go to the entrance of the cave.

Wishing she'd thought to bring sunglasses, she squinted in the bright morning light. She had no idea where they were. She seemed to be at the foot of some sort of mountain range. Could it be the one she saw in the distance yesterday? Damnit, this wasn't getting her anywhere.

She couldn't see anyone outside, though that meant little. Maybe they were lucky and their pursuers had given up. She sighed and glanced back into the cave. She knew that they were going to need food and water, though water was much more important at the moment. She'd have to leave him behind on her search, and she was loath to do that. Anything might happen to him. A predator might come or he might die without her there or…

She shook her head. This wasn't helping. She had no choice. She'd have to leave him. If she couldn't find someone to help, at least she could try to get some water. Though how would she carry it? She leaned against the side of the cave's entrance, bracing her head against the cool stone, and sighed.

She had to do something. That was a given. The question was what? She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing as she felt bits of the caked blood on her hands flake off. She was filthy, but there was nothing she could do about that. But first she figured that she should investigate the cave, see how deep it was. There might be water inside the cave, and she wouldn't have to leave him. Or there might be another entrance on the other side. No matter what, she wanted to be certain that, if she left the Doctor here, he'd be as safe as she could make him.

She just needed a torch – or, she suddenly realised, the sonic screwdriver. Though its blue light was faint, she could use that to see where she was going and, hopefully, scare off anything that might be lurking in the darkness.

Returning to the Doctor's side, she lifted his torn jacket, wincing at the hole that was ripped through the back. "He's not gonna like that," she said softly, fingering the tear. Shaking herself out of her reverie, she reached into the interior pocket. She couldn't feel the sonic screwdriver for a long moment, though she knew he kept it there. When she finally closed her fingers around it, she felt as though she'd been searching a space far larger than it appeared to be.

She withdrew the device carefully, feeling comforted by its presence. When she looked at the Doctor, she decided that having his face pressed against the dirt couldn't be comfortable. After slipping the screwdriver into her pocket, she slid the leather jacket underneath his head as a makeshift pillow. Letting her hand linger on his brow, she stared at his face, memorising it. She could feel the soft puff of warm air against her wrist, feeling intensely comforted by it. Trusting that she could leave him for a few minutes, she allowed her hand to fall away from him. "I'll be right back," she told him reluctantly.

Shifting to her feet, she pulled out the sonic screwdriver and thumbed it on. With its vibrating hum echoing oddly in the cave, she began to follow the cave wall, trailing her fingers against the stone and casting the blue light across the ground as she walked. She paused when she felt grooves beneath her fingertips and turned the light towards it.

They were pictures. Very basic pictures etched into the stone, but she could see what looked like the rudimentary form of the spider-people that lived on this planet. There were hash-marks next to each image – words? – that made no sense to her. She suspected they told a story, but what? Shaking her head, she moved on, noticing that as she went deeper into the cave, the pictures were rougher, almost frantic. Scratches marred several of the images and she thought that someone might've been trying to erase them – they were far too deliberate. Spider-person faced spider-person, and she wondered if it was supposed to describe a war. The hash-marks were haphazard and, rather abruptly, they stopped.

Feeling uneasy, she continued on until she reached a curve in the wall. At this point, she turned, glancing back the way that she'd come. In her mind, she'd travelled a great distance, but in reality she was only a few yards away from the cave's entrance.

There was no moisture in this cave, she realised. The walls, while cool, weren't damp. She wouldn't find any pools of water back here. There was nothing for it, really. She would have to leave.

She spent a few more minutes investigating the back of the cave before returning to the Doctor's side. Maybe, if she left the cave, she'd be lucky and find a farmer or someone who might be able to help them. She resolutely did not consider that anyone she might encounter might be one of the people that had been chasing them. Paranoia wouldn't save the Doctor's life.

She rested her hand against his forehead, frowning when she realised that he felt almost as warm as she did. Fever had set in, she realised. He was shivering slightly, the movement causing her makeshift bandage to shift against his back. There was nothing for it.

He needed water and help. Now.

Thumbing off the sonic screwdriver, she put it back into her pocket. She might need it later. "Hold on, Doctor," she told him fiercely, wishing that she could give into the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. To give into the fear and the sorrow that he might leave her. She didn't care that she was stuck on some alien planet with no way home. What she cared about was him. And he needed her.

With one last look at him, she walked to the cave's entrance, wincing in the sunlight. She tried to memorise this location, specific landmarks that would guide her back here. There was some loose brush nearby. Maybe she could try to disguise the cave? No. She didn't have the time for that.

Biting her lower lip, she set off towards her left, in the direction that she thought they'd originally come from. Maybe she'd find help.

Or maybe their pursuers would find her.

* * *

She'd found a pool of water about half a mile from the cave, but it'd taken her over an hour to find something to carry it with. It was ungainly, difficult to carry and rather heavy, but the hollow, bamboo-like plant that she'd found was the only thing that she could use to carry water back to the Doctor. It didn't hold much, maybe a gallon at the most, but it was far more than what she'd had before.

The sun was starting its descent now and she cast a wary eye at it. She wasn't certain, but she figured that she'd have maybe three hours until the sun set and those things came back. She wished that she could move faster, but to do so would be to risk spilling the water. Part of her worried that he might've taken a turn for the worse, or that something else had happened to him while she was gone. She needed to clean his wounds, give him something to drink, anything to combat the fever that wracked his body.

God, she wished she could fly.

"No use worrying, Rose," she told herself, however she knew that her heart wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, listen.

A journey that had taken her maybe fifteen minutes took closer to forty for her to return to the cave's entrance. However, she knew that something was wrong. Outwardly, everything was the same. The rocks, the brush, the cave. Nothing had changed.

But inwardly…

She bit her lower lip and carefully set her makeshift water jug down, balancing it against a small pile of stones located near the entrance. Without saying a word, she crept closer to the cave. She couldn't hear anything inside, but that didn't mean anything.

When she was close enough, she dared to sneak a glance inside the cave. The contrast between the light of day and the darkness inside blinded her momentarily, blocking the interior from view. As her eyes slowly adjusted, her gaze was drawn immediately to the spot where she'd left the Doctor.

In his place, she could see disturbed dirt and a wet-looking spot of what could only be blood. Of the Doctor himself, though, she could see no sign.

He was gone.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2: Pain

_Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. Fanfiction dot net wasn't liking me at all for the past few days and wasn't letting me upload this chapter. Hopefully it'll behave for a little while. - Gillian_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Pain**

Rose didn't panic.

He couldn't've got far, she reasoned. He was injured, had a fever and was, perhaps, delusional. None of which lent themselves to long treks in unfamiliar – or even familiar – territory. She just wished she knew where he'd got to. Deeper into the cave? Outside? And, if he was outside, how was she supposed to find him?

She was a shopgirl who travelled in time and space. She certainly wasn't a girl guide. What the hell did she know that was useful? She definitely couldn't track him. If he'd left an obvious trail, she might have a chance, but true tracking? The best she could do was to identify where a jacket had been bought just by looking at it. That was about it. Useless. Bloody useless.

Fear, frustration and worry swelled to a crescendo in her mind, demanding that she give them a voice. She did with a single cry of his name and she listened to her voice echo almost ominously against the rocky terrain.

She wasn't expecting a response. If he was out there, he probably couldn't hear her. And if the TARDIS was on the flake he might not even be able to understand her. There was absolutely nothing that said he actually spoke English, regardless of his Northern accent.

Shaking her head, she decided to check the cave first. If he'd only moved deeper inside, there was no need for her to worry. If not, well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. Slipping the sonic screwdriver out of her pocket, she thumbed it to life and entered the cave. She suspected that there might be a setting she could use to find him, but she was loath to do anything that might break the device. He hadn't taught her how to use it, after all. She'd just had to learn from watching him. It was a miracle that she could even turn the bloody thing on.

Despair gnawed at her as she went further inside. Playing the light across the cave's floor and walls, she sighed when she found nothing other than dirt and rock. Which left her with only one choice.

"Of course he went outside. Where else would an injured Time Lord swan off to?" she muttered to herself.

Turning off the sonic screwdriver, she put it back into her pocket and headed for the cave entrance. At least she knew one direction that the Doctor hadn't gone. He certainly hadn't followed her. Sadly that left many, many other directions to search and not a lot of time to do it in. She had to assume that, when darkness fell, their pursuers would be back.

So, if she were the Doctor – an injured, possibly delusional version – where would she go? Or… Oh, it was stupid of her to assume that he left on his own. What if he was captured? What if their friends had come back? What if he was dead?

She stumbled a little when the thought occurred to her. He could be dead, but she'd bloody well know if he was. Wouldn't she? Something would've changed. Time would've stopped or the world would've trembled or her heart would've skipped a beat – or a dozen.

"He's fine," she told herself firmly. He was just lost and alone and injured and dying and…

What if-?

No. This wasn't helping. Maybe there would be visible footprints, something to give her an idea, at least, of where he might've gone. She could hope for that, right?

As she stepped out into the bright sunlight, she was momentarily blinded. But, thankfully, a shadow fell across her, blocking the harsh light.

Wait. The sky had been cloudless.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she froze, feeling hunted, almost as though someone was watching her. A pebble bounced down the rocks behind her, sending a chill up her spine. She suspected that she knew what she'd find if she turned around. Someone, or something, looming over her. One of the spider-people, perhaps.

Or one of those things that had chased them the night before.

"I'm jus' looking for my friend," she said. If she was talking to no-one, or even if she was making a fool of herself, she didn't care.

The heavy silence was punctuated by another falling stone. Biting her lower lip, she came to a decision. There was no-one in front of her, no-one to either side of her that she could see, but she knew that she was being observed. Unable to withstand the suspense, she turned around slowly, lifting her head to look towards the rocks just above the cave's entrance.

Before she could complete the movement, the spider-person jumped lightly to the ground in front of her, its shorter, more manoeuvrable limbs stretching towards her.

She didn't scream, at least she told herself that she didn't, and backed away a few steps. "Um, hello. I'm Rose," she said hesitantly. "Have you seen my friend? He's, um, tall…injured…might be wearing or carrying a leather jacket?"

There was no way for her to tell what the creature – person, she reminded herself – was thinking. Let alone what it wanted. She didn't dare turn her back to it, though.

"Mrrrl'ask tiiirllnamisk?" The spider's voice sounded chime-like, melodic, really. She'd never really noticed it before, but that was probably because the TARDIS had been translating for her.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," she replied, frustrated. How was she supposed to find the Doctor if she couldn't even talk to anyone?

"Why are you here?" the spider asked, enunciating each word carefully.

She blinked at the unexpected sound of English words – at least, what sounded like English words. The TARDIS! It was working again. "My name's Rose. My friend's been injured an' he might've-"

The spider smoothly cut her off. "Rose, I am Hrralsh. These are sacred grounds. You claim that you did not understand, but I can see that you do."

Sacred grounds? Oh hell. The cave paintings. "Sorry, it's just that…it takes me a moment to sort it all out in my head," she replied, unwilling to explain her sudden understanding of Hrralsh's language. "I didn't mean to trespass, but the Doctor was injured an' we had to hide from the night creatures."

She had the feeling that she was being weighed against an invisible set of scales. There was no doubt in her mind that Hrralsh could and would hurt, if not kill, her should it so decide. "You will explain to the elders."

"But my friend. Have you seen the Doctor?" she asked, unwilling to follow the spider and leave him behind.

"He lives."

Rose started. "But where is he? D'you have him? Can I-?"

Hrralsh cut her off with a sharp gesture of one of its shorter legs. "You will walk, Rose. It is not safe at night."

She cast a concerned glance at the sun, realising that it was well on its descent. Darkness would be upon them soon. "But the Doctor…"

"Your mate lives," Hrralsh said. "Beyond that you need not concern yourself."

She suddenly, violently, was finished with this. Finished with the stress, the worry, the desperation, the fear and the despair. Finished with wondering where he was, if he was okay and if Hrralsh was just toying with her or not. "Sod that!" she snapped. "Where is he? What've you done to him? Take me to him!"

Hrralsh's front legs rubbed together in a gesture that she assumed expressed exasperation. "With regret, Rose," the spider said.

But, before she could ask anything further, she felt something prick her arm. She looked down and watched in mute shock as a wicked-looking stinger was pulled away from her arm. There was another spider-person behind her, she realised. She hadn't even…

Oh, she felt rather strange.

"What'dyoudu…?" she tried to ask, but her mouth wasn't cooperating. Or was it the words that wouldn't come? Or the spinning of the planet beneath her feet? Or…

She stumbled in place, her legs feeling like they were almost incapable of supporting her.

"With regret," Hrralsh repeated and her world narrowed to the spider-person's multi-faceted eyes.

She thought she might be falling, but her last thought before unconsciousness swept in was not of betrayal or fear.

It was of the Doctor.

* * *

It was there, just at the edges of his mind, lurking in the darkest corners. Death stalked him now, edging ever so much closer, bringing with it an incipient regeneration. However, he ignored it. It didn't matter. He'd die or he wouldn't, though he wasn't in favour of the former option. 

What mattered was…

The thought was gone in a second, slipping away from his mental grasp. He knew it was important, but he couldn't focus. Pain was blurring his reactions, his mental processes. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

He needed…

"Rose," he whispered and his voice faltered as the urge to cough overwhelmed him. He tried to turn his head, but he found the movement too painful. He was lying on his stomach, he realised. Something was digging into his side, but that was a minor discomfort compared to his back. Another wave of pain caused him to wince in response, and he opened his eyes.

He found that he couldn't focus his gaze. Instead the room was a blur, but he suspected that he was stretched atop something manufactured – a bed of some sort, perhaps? What the hell had happened?

It was hard for him to concentrate on his memories, but he tried his best. He remembered running. The pounding of his feet and hers against the ground. The desperate need to find some measure of safety. And then there had been intense pain. Somehow, he suspected that he'd managed to hold on long enough to get them where they needed to go. But where was Rose?

"Rose," he called again, but no-one answered. He wasn't strong enough to shift himself to a sitting position since every movement he made was agony. He focused through the pain, trying to force his senses to register more than just the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. There. He wasn't alone. Someone or something was moving off to his side.

"Your mate is being retrieved," someone said. He heard a clicking sound that seemed to move closer to him. Something swelled in his field of view, but he couldn't tell what it was.

"Who are you? Where am I? Where's Rose?" he asked, trying to keep himself firmly focused on the here and now. It was rather tempting to give into the pain and let sleep claim him, but he hadn't really registered what had been said.

"I am Urshtal, High Elder of the Yrraktri clan. You have trespassed on sacred ground, but you are injured. We are duty-bound to heal you before your trial. However, your wounds are such that I cannot do more to treat them. I am unfamiliar with your species."

He smiled faintly, though he suspected the expression was more of a grimace. "And Rose?"

"Your mate is being retrieved," Urshtal repeated.

Mate? If it didn't hurt so much, he would've shaken his head. "I-"

"Enough questions for now. Rest," Urshtal commanded.

"But Rose…" he whispered.

"Will be here when you next wake."

Reassured, though he suspected he should be anything but, he let himself drift into a state of almost-sleep. He didn't dare let himself indulge in a healing trance now. Not when he wasn't certain what was going on, let alone what this 'trial' would entail. And, most especially, not when Rose still needed him.

But it was so hard to concentrate...

* * *

She awoke feeling as if she'd just had a long, much-needed kip. Lethargy spread through her muscles and she blinked a little as she tried to remember what had happened to her. She remembered bringing water back to the cave and… 

The Doctor. He'd been gone when she got back and there was a spider and…

She sat up straight in a sudden movement, blinking her eyes against the firelight that brightened the room. She was sitting on some sort of bed, though it was a lot wider than anything she was used to. The room itself wasn't that large from what she could see. As she tried to turn her head, she moved her arm just enough to cause it to ache. Surprised, she glanced down at it to see that her arm had been wrapped with some sort of bandage.

She'd been drugged, she realised. Or stung, but it'd been the same thing. The spider-people had taken her. Damnit.

There wasn't a window that she could see, but she knew that night had fallen outside. If the Doctor was still out there-? No. That didn't bear thinking about, even considering. He was fine, wherever he was, and she'd find him.

A low groan punctuated the silence and she turned towards the sound, wincing as the motion caused her arm to ache even more. The Doctor was stretched out beside her and she crossed the small space between them in an instant. She pressed her hand against his cheek. "Doctor, oh thank god," she said softly, desperately checking him for further injuries as she knelt at his side. His face was ashen from the pain, but, from what she could see of his wound, it looked better than before.

"Rose?" he asked, opening his eyes. The relief in them when he met her gaze was impossible to ignore and she wished that she could indulge in a hug. However, mindful of his injuries, she placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah. You gave me a bit of a scare," she admitted softly, trying to keep the tears welling in her eyes from falling.

"You're injured?" he asked, his gaze levelled on her bandaged arm.

"I'm fine," she said, waving away his concern. "How're you feeling?"

He looked as if he wanted to lie outright, but she thought that something in her expression must have changed his mind. "Been better," he admitted. "What happened?"

"How much do you remember?" she countered his question with another. She wanted to ask him so many things. Why did the TARDIS stop translating alien languages? What had happened to him when she'd gone for water? She held her tongue, mostly because she was hesitant to bring up those questions while he was still ill.

There was reluctance in his gaze as he glanced at a point somewhere beyond her. The hairs on the nape of her neck lifted as she became aware of another sound in the room. Keeping her hand on the Doctor's shoulder, she turned her head to face one of the spider-people. She couldn't tell if this was Hrralsh or someone else, but she wasn't going to let them come any closer to the Doctor.

She pushed herself off the bed and to her feet, barring the way to the Doctor's side with her body as best she could. "Who are you? Why've you brought us here?" She was proud that her voice didn't tremble as she faced the alien.

"I am Urshtal, High Elder of the Yrraktri clan. You have trespassed on sacred ground and will be held here until you and your mate are well enough to stand trial," the spider-person replied.

"Sacred ground," she repeated, her brow furrowing in thought. "That's what Hrralsh said. You mean the cave, yeah? The cave paintings?" It was the only explanation that made sense.

"Yes," Urshtal replied. "You will be put on trial for your crimes against the clan. Until that time, see to your mate. He requires your assistance."

She bit back her immediate inclination to protest that he wasn't her 'mate' in that sense, but she knew it would be useless. "We were tryin' to get away from whatever was chasin' us. We couldn't see where we were, let alone if there were any other options for shelter."

She got the impression that Urshtal was focusing all of its attention upon her. The weight of that regard was almost oppressive, but she didn't let herself back down. Instead, she focused her gaze on one of the spider-person's eyes.

Urshtal's front legs twitched almost spasmodically and she felt a thrill of exultation when it looked away from her. "Night brings with it many things," Urshtal admitted. "That you managed to survive one Nerfalistallisian night is remarkable, especially with injuries. It will be noted at your trial."

"An' until then?" she asked. "What if the Doctor needs more than simple bandages an' water? What then?"

"Until then, you will remain here," Urshtal replied, almost as if it didn't understand.

"You didn't answer my question. What if my…mate needs more help than what I can give him?" She folded her hands in front of her in an almost defensive gesture.

"Your mate lives or dies by your hand." Urshtal turned several of its multi-faceted eyes toward the bed. "Keep this in mind."

Anger burned within her, but she decided not to lash out at the alien. Not now. She needed to do her best to help the Doctor first. Then they could deal with Urshtal and its threats, though she suspected that the alien simply didn't understand their needs. Yet another way that these aliens were far more alien than anything she'd met before.

"Do not try to leave," Urshtal said. "There are guardians who watch this place." Without giving her the chance to respond, the spider-person headed to the door. Urshtal placed its two front legs against depressions on either side of the threshold and the door swung outwards. Before she could do more than take a step or two in that direction, the spider-person was outside and the door swung shut behind it.

The subsequent _click-snap-click_ noises were, she supposed, the sound of locks sliding into place.

"That went well," the Doctor said in a low voice that was barely audible.

"Next time, you try," she replied, returning to his side. "Doctor, I've got-" She bit her lower lip and glanced at the door. Just because they appeared to be alone didn't mean that they were, right? Urshtal or someone else could easily be listening to what they said.

Paranoia, she decided, really didn't suit her. Instead of verbalising, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. The Doctor's expression lightened slightly at the sight of the object.

"1416," he whispered. "Try 1416."

"What's that do?" she asked, glancing down at the device. Should be simple to set, right? Just twist the knobbly bits and hope?

"Cauter…" He paused and licked his lips. "I can't heal this, Rose."

She blinked at him. "But your wound is mostly scabbed over. 'S not even bleeding that much."

"Look again," he said.

Frowning, she did as he asked. Lifting the tattered remains of her hoodie from his back, she bit back an instinctive gasp at the sight before her. The wound was growing somehow. She could see the parts that had been scabbed over, but now there was fresh blood oozing from the wound. "Oh god."

"Setting 1416. On the wound, Rose," the Doctor said as she pulled away from his back. "Promise me."

"What's it gonna do?" she asked.

He reached out a hand and caught her wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. "Promise me," he said, his expression pinched with the pain.

"All right," she said. "I promise."

The Doctor didn't answer her, but his grip on her wrist slackened along with the rest of his body. He was unconscious again.

Gnawing on her lower lip, she twisted the sonic screwdriver to what she thought was setting '1416'. "I hope you know what you're doing," she said as she held the device just over the injury.

Thumbing it to life, she didn't have enough time to consider what this might do to him. No, she knew it in an instant. Mere seconds after she'd turned on the device, the Doctor's eyes snapped open, his back arched away from her and he screamed.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3: Healing

**Chapter 3: Healing**

Tears blurred her vision as she worked the sonic screwdriver around the wound. She'd wanted to stop, had tried to stop, but she trusted him. He'd said that this was necessary. That this had to be done. But, god, this was killing her. Inch by terrifying inch, it was killing her a little more with each whimper of pain that emerged from his lips.

His voice was rough, raw from screams and shouts, when he vocalised his pain. There were moments of pure terror when he would slump, seemingly lifeless, as she swept the device over his wound. And there were moments where all she wanted to do was to give into her tears, her need to cry, in sympathy for the pain she was putting the Doctor through.

When she was finished, she turned off the device, slipped it into her pocket and gave into that urge. Great choking sobs wracked her body as she hugged her knees to her chest. She'd hurt him. Oh, god, had she hurt him. She didn't think she'd ever be able to forget his screams or the ashen colour of his skin, at least what little of it that she could see from where his face was pressed against the thin mattress.

It didn't matter that he'd told her that this was necessary. It didn't matter at all because…because…

She couldn't think. She could only cry, though no solace came with these tears. With each sob, she felt a deep, abiding ache grow stronger somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. She hid her face in the cradle of her arms, shutting out the world around her.

She supposed that she should be worried, nervous that the Doctor's cries would bring Urshtal or another of the spider-people. However, she just couldn't bring herself to care. The Doctor was sleeping – or maybe dying – and she couldn't do a damned thing about it.

Why was she so bloody useless?

She'd thought that she'd cried herself out, but she could feel the sting of more tears at the corners of her eyes. She hugged her knees tighter and closed her eyes, trying to will the tears away. God, what had she done?

She could still hear his screams echoing in her head. Nothing she did could shut them out. She just couldn't. They wouldn't stop. Never, ever, ever stop.

When she felt the first touch, she thought it was her imagination. No-one else was around, and she certainly didn't expect the Doctor to wake up any time soon. Then she felt it again, and the bed creaked as someone moved beside her.

She didn't want to open her eyes, didn't want to see her fears come to life. That this was nothing more than her far too vivid imagination playing tricks on her. That Urshtal had come to take the Doctor away. Those and a dozen other images, each more terrifying than the last, filled her mind. The tears were coming freely again, even harder than before.

That was when she felt arms wrap around her, pulling her back into a solid embrace. She could feel the double-beat of his hearts against her back, feel him press a phantom kiss against the crown of her head.

"Rose." It was just her name, but it was amazing how much he could convey with just one word.

With a soft cry, she turned around in the hug, burying her face in his chest and entangling one hand in the fabric of his jumper. "Oh god, oh god, oh god." The words were repeated with each exhale of breath from her sobs.

He didn't say a word, and for that she was thankful. She wasn't certain if she was capable of anything other than feeling him. His pulse, his breath as it stirred her hair, his arms as they pressed against her back.

These tears were different, she discovered. These tears brought release and she felt the knot in her chest loosen with every breath she took, inhaling his scent. When her cries slowed to the occasional sniffle, she loosened her death-grip on the front of his jumper.

"Oh, god. Doctor!" she said, trying to pull away from the hug as awareness filled her. He was injured. He shouldn't be comforting her. If anything, she should be the one comforting him. Then again, why should he accept it? Hell, why should he be offering it after what she'd done? "You shouldn't-"

He didn't release his hold on her. Instead, he loosened the embrace enough to let her look him in the eye. There was still pain traced across the lines of his face and she knew that he wasn't entirely healed, but he looked far better than before. "Stay," he told her simply.

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to tell if he was still hurting, if he truly wanted to continue holding her. In the back of her mind, she found this comforting. That he was reaching out to her when she needed him, despite everything that she'd done to him. When she finally realised that he meant what he said, she offered him a weak smile and ceased her attempts to pull away.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, though a part of her loathed to hear the answer.

He looked at her and she thought she could see a multitude of thoughts cross over his face. Sometimes, she wondered what it was that he thought about. The past, the future, the present, world endings, a war's aftermath, loneliness or, perhaps, the simple desire for a good cup of tea. He seemed to come to a decision as he leaned back against the headboard, drawing her with him.

She winced reflexively when his back touched the wood-like substance, but besides a faint grimace of pain he didn't seem to notice. However, ignoring her question, he countered it with another. "How's the arm?" he asked, touching the top of the bandage with one of his hands.

"Fine," she replied absently. "Your back?"

"Fine," he said in the same tone, his expression almost challenging.

"Doctor," she began, intent on voicing her worries about their upcoming trial and his continued health, but something in his eyes caused her words to falter, fumbling to a stop.

His earlier gaze had been absent-minded as dozens of other thoughts had apparently been fighting for dominance. This time, though, was different. She felt as if all he noticed, all he knew, was her. She felt as though she were naked to his gaze, down to her soul, and didn't know if he'd like or even appreciate what he'd find. "Rose, I'll sort this," he said and she wasn't certain if he meant their current situation or something else.

Before those words would've been comforting, now they were anything but. "How?" she asked. "We're about to be put on trial, Doctor. An' something tells me that these spider-people don't understand us, let alone how we think. If we're convicted of seekin' shelter on holy ground, we'll probably get the death penalty."

"Hard to kill, me," he replied with a grin. She got the impression that he wanted her to echo that grin, to share in the joke.

"That's not funny," she snapped.

He immediately looked contrite, his grin fading. "No. Suppose not. Rose, there's something else going on here that doesn't have anything to do with sacred ground or anything else that Urshtal and its lot have told us."

"You mean whatever it was that chased us." That was the only thing she could think of that he could be talking about.

"In part. You said that you saw cave paintings?"

"Yeah. Filled the back of the cave, actually," she said, closing her eyes to better picture the scratches and squiggles that had lined the cave's walls.

"Describe them," he told her.

And, keeping her eyes closed in an attempt to keep the images at the forefront of her mind, she did as best she could.

* * *

Once, a very long time ago, he'd had a long discussion with the bloke who had come up with one branch of humanity's rudimentary hieroglyphics. He wanted to know why, specifically, the man had decided to scratch on a wall with a bit of paint. Didn't seem to make sense to him, at first. Oh, sure, there was the need to describe things that he'd seen. Picture was worth a thousand words and all that. But what he really wanted to know was why.

Why paint? Why colour? Why use stick figures to represent his kind and even more elaborate stick figures to depict animals? What was it all for?

The bloke had looked at him with an expression of utter disgust written across his face. "Why not?" he'd said.

In a way, that made sense. 'Because I could' seemed to be a favoured motto of the human race. But, more importantly, it represented news. A way of passing information, of stories, of things that couldn't and wouldn't last beyond the fragile and finite memories of their creators.

That was what it was all for. Not just because it could be done, but because it should be done. Must be done. No matter that the Nerfalistallisians weren't human and inevitably had a different way of looking at life, some things remained constant.

He knew that the simplest and most basic of life's events to describe was death. Always had been, always would be. With her words, Rose described rudimentary drawings of the Nerfalistallisian form, each in varied states of 'upright' and 'collapsed'. The sheer number of the images implied that it must depict a war.

As she reached the end of her tale, she described the way that the final images of the war, the fates of the winners and the losers, had been scratched out, frantically erased. Almost as if the knowledge of this particular history was forbidden.

His brow furrowed slightly as he considered the implications. He suspected that the 'sacred ground' comment was merely an excuse, a way of keeping unsuspecting locals from discovering the truth of their past. The question was why. Why go through all that trouble? Why bother?

"This isn't right," he muttered, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Rose shifted in his arms, glancing at him curiously. "Which part?" she asked. "The bit where this planet doesn't have a moon or stars? Or the bit where we got captured by the locals – again, I might add? Or the bit where we got chased by something straight out of-"

"This entire planet," he replied, cutting her off as he searched for the words to describe what he suspected. "Whatever chased us is part of it. Something's terribly wrong."

She gave him a look that seemed to imply that he was being particularly daft.

"It's the classic story. Don't want to be reminded of the past? No problem, just erase it. Slap a 'do not touch' sign on it, coloured with such phrases as 'sacred ground', and it works. No need to worry about anyone being curious enough to ask questions. It can just be pushed aside, ignored, dismissed." He met Rose's gaze and grinned. "Except for when the two of us blunder in on what's probably the biggest cover-up in this planet's history."

Rose frowned. "How're those things that chased us related to that?"

"Don't know," he replied, shrugging.

"Okay. Then how about the starless nights around here, even though the sky's perfectly clear?" she asked.

"No clue."

She shook her head. "Then what do you know?"

A wide grin stretched his lips as he looked at her. "That sittin' here isn't helping."

* * *

There was something reassuring about seeing that grin again. Just a short time ago, she hadn't been certain that she'd see that expression ever again. She felt a lump form at the back of her throat and she resolutely forced it away. This wasn't the time.

It was tempting, so very tempting, to let herself forget about what had happened and just relax in his arms. He hadn't made any move to release her from his embrace and she couldn't find it within herself to pull away.

But he was right. Sitting here in each other's arms, while comforting, wasn't helping. They couldn't escape, nor could they learn more about their captors by being passive. There was only one thing for it. Sliding one hand into her pocket, she pulled out the sonic screwdriver and presented it to him. "Might make doin' something about things a bit easier if you had this." She was about to add more when the Doctor suddenly stilled.

In the months - years? It was so hard to tell time when one travelled through it, she realised – that she'd known him, she had learned to read the myriad emotions that crossed his face. She knew when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was intrigued or excited or any other of dozens of emotions. Yes, this was an expression that she knew all too well.

That familiar fear started to build again, thundering through her blood with each beat of her heart. She wanted to interrupt his concentration, to ask what was wrong, but she held her tongue.

He'd heard something, or saw something, that she couldn't. One of his Time Lord-ish powers, she supposed. Letting herself still as well, as much as the fear would let her, she strained her hearing, trying to detect what he had.

When she first heard it, she almost dismissed it as nothing more than the wind. If it wasn't for the faint stiffening of the Doctor's muscles, she would've done so. Instead, she listened even more intently. It was far too rhythmic to be anything other than footsteps – spider-steps? Or however she could describe the spider-people's movements.

That was when the screaming began.

She jumped in reaction and the Doctor's arms tightened around her for an instant before he let her go, grabbing the sonic screwdriver from her limp grasp. He was off the bed and halfway across the room before she gathered her wits about her to do the same. As almost an afterthought, she picked up his leather jacket and followed.

The hum of the sonic screwdriver provided a discordant harmony to the screams as the Doctor moved the device over the sides of the door. She could see the tension in the way his muscles bunched underneath his jumper and the faintest of winces as he moved in such a way that it evidently pulled his wound. From this position, it definitely looked better. The angry red swelling and the fresh blood were all but gone. Only a few flecks of bright red remained at the edges of the wound, otherwise she could mostly see the pale pink of healing flesh.

There wasn't enough time to wonder at his apparently miraculous healing abilities as the door swung slowly open. It was, as she'd expected, pitch black outside. The light from the interior of the room – which she now realised was a hut of some sort – barely penetrated that yawing darkness.

She could detect individual noises now – screams, shouts and that well-remembered whistling noise that had, she suspected, heralded the Doctor's initial injury. The Doctor looked as if he was about to step out of the relative safety of the light when something skittered through the small illuminated portion of the night. She caught the briefest of glances at something large and pale-white coloured before it faded back into the gloom.

"Doctor?" she asked, telling herself that her voice didn't squeak with her fear.

Instead of answering with words, he extended a hand towards her, his expression grim. She slid her hand into his, feeling immeasurably cheered by the feel of his calloused hand. Didn't matter what was outside, not really. Not as long as they each had a hand to hold.

"C'mon," he said simply and tugged her away from the exposed doorway and into the darkness.

If anything, she found this particular flight even more terrifying than the last. The sounds of fighting, of screams and of spider-people dying filled the night air. At least twice, the Doctor tugged her flush against him and held her trembling body steady as something brushed past them.

The Doctor didn't have them run. Instead, he confined their movements to a slow stalk that was punctuated by frequent stops. Sometimes she could feel the solid strength of a building beside her, other times there was nothing but open air. Each time she felt as though they were being hunted, despite all indications to the contrary.

She'd realised some minutes into their escape that she had no idea where they were or even how to return to their one-time prison. The door had swung shut once they had left the room and now the only light that they had was from shaded windows, windows that the Doctor kept them well clear of.

In the gloom, she could barely make out figures dashing past in the darkness. This wasn't the pitch black that she'd seen before, not really. But it was still dark enough that she had to rely on the Doctor to guide her.

She could feel him looking at her, considering her. Even though she couldn't see much further beyond her nose, she knew that at least. He squeezed her hand. Once, twice. And then he let her go.

Her mouth opened in shock at the sudden bereft feeling that he'd left in his wake. She didn't know if he wanted her to stay, to follow or to make her own fumbling way through the darkness. Squeezing her hand told her nothing, not really. All she knew was that he was there one instant and gone the next.

Biting her lower lip, she shifted her position until her back was pressed against one of the buildings. Feeling somewhat comforted by its unyielding strength, she tried to locate the Doctor as best she could. Hearing him was next to impossible. Though the screams were fewer and the sounds of fighting had lessened, the sound of one Time Lord's steps were easily masked.

Why had he let her go? He was still injured. Maybe he realised that they couldn't escape and he…

No. That was a daft idea. Completely daft. He was probably scouting for another way out of this place, whatever it was. She could try following after him but, if he was trying to be quiet, her blundering after him wouldn't help.

She froze in a moment of indecision as her mind painted increasingly terrible fates for the Doctor (and, in some cases, herself) should he not return. Something brushed past her, and she heard a skittering sound in its wake. A chill ran up her spine as she realised that, had she not moved from her earlier position, whatever it was would've run her over.

God, she hated this. She wanted light. Starlight, moonlight, sunlight, lamplight. It didn't matter. As long as she could bloody well see. Sight probably wouldn't do her a lot of good right now, she supposed. People would still be dying and the creatures that had attacked them would still be there. This was a purely emotional response. Just another of her ape-like tendencies, she thought. If only she could see, everything would be better.

The reality was anything but.

Someone touched her. She wasn't frozen; she was stone. Her every sense was focused upon that brief, purposeful touch. It started at her shoulder, then transferred to her elbow, her wrist and finally to her hand. A strangled whimper escaped her control and she silently damned herself for that weakness. It was only when she recognised the hand that entangled its fingers with her own that she allowed herself to relax.

The Doctor was back.

He tugged her hand and she followed him, her every sense attuned to him, his touch, and the slight sound of his breathing. It was far more comforting to focus upon that rather than anything else. For a moment she almost let herself believe that they'd manage to escape from this place, from those creatures, without any further encounters.

She was wrong.

It might've been five minutes, or even less, before she felt a strangling tingling sensation that started near her feet and crawled up her body. It didn't matter whether she was stationary or moving, the feeling remained. She was about to ask the Doctor if he felt it too when she realised that she couldn't feel his hand any more.

He hadn't dropped it.

It just wasn't there.

She flexed her hand once around empty air and frowned. She wasn't going to panic, not this time. He'd probably dropped it – but why hadn't she felt that? He was probably a few feet away at the maximum – but why couldn't she feel him? She hadn't moved – but what happened to the wind?

She closed her eyes tightly and opened them again, blinking into the darkness. For a moment, she was reminded of the previous night. But somehow she felt as if this blackness was deeper, richer than the one before. She didn't think that there was much open air around her. If anything she felt as if she were confined.

Carefully stretching out one arm, she held it steady parallel to the floor. She didn't feel a wall or an obstruction in that direction. When she tried the other, it was the same. If someone was watching her, they were, she thought, having a good laugh at her expense.

No matter. She had to find out where she was. And, most importantly, she had to find the Doctor.

Shifting her arms so that they were stretched out in front of her, she carefully took a step forward. When nothing stopped her from continuing, she repeated the movement again and again until she found a wall. It was smooth and chilled to her touch and she traced it carefully with her hands. It seemed to be made of some sort of metal-like substance.

Now she frowned. She hadn't seen any sort of metalwork, especially not metal walls, on the planet. This was something else entirely.

"Doctor?" she asked, breaking the silence.

There was a clicking noise and the room suddenly flooded with light. She blinked rapidly, trying in vain to orientate herself in the sudden brightness. Standing in front of her, separated by some sort of transparent material – not metal at all, then – was another one of the spider-people.

Only this one was different, she realised. This one was carrying a large, threatening-looking object that she suspected was some sort of gun.

"Um, hello? I come in peace?" she offered, trying for a smile.

The alien's answer was to pull the trigger.

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4: Impossible

**Chapter 4: Impossible**

Fantastic. Really, really fantastic. He'd been minding his own business – well, as much as he could considering that he was trying to get them to safety without running into any of their 'hosts' or their hosts' attackers – when it had happened. It'd taken no more than a second, but one moment he'd been hurrying Rose through the village, the next he was here.

This getting captured thing was getting rather old, he decided. The darkness didn't really hamper his senses. Well, it did, but not that much. He could tell that he was in some sort of cell. It was fairly large, occupied by something vaguely bed-like and a basin of some sort tucked into a corner. Three of the walls were opaque, but one of them seemed to be almost transparent. He ran his fingers along its edge. It felt vaguely metallic, though it was unlike any material he'd seen before. But, most telling of all, he'd been separated from Rose – again.

That was next to impossible. Oh, he could probably manage it with a bit of jiggery-pokery, but then _he_ was a genius. These beings shouldn't've had access to that sort of technology. The basic run-of-the-mill transmat couldn't tell the difference between two people, especially when they were touching. It would've brought both of them to the same spot. Which it obviously hadn't.

Damnit. Feeling a bit like a caged animal, he began to pace, brow furrowed in thought as he considered the implications of this new situation. Rose could only be in one of two places. Only one of them was even moderately acceptable. She could be somewhere around here – different cell, different part of this complex or whatever it was. Or she could still be in the village.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stopped pacing, staring blankly at one of the walls. She'd be defenceless. Since she couldn't see, the locals or even whatever was launching the attack could hurt her. Even kill her.

That was it. He was done with this rubbish. Rage flooded his mind as he turned on his heel to march straight to what he assumed was the front of the cell. "Oi! You lot! 'S not polite to keep me waiting!"

There was no warning. One second he was surrounded by darkness, the next the room was flooded with light. Rather clever, really. Disorientate your prisoners and they're less likely to do something foolish. Then again, this lot had never had the pleasure of meeting him. At least, he hoped not.

He blinked rapidly, recognising that there was a second wall some fifteen feet away from the transparent wall in front of him. It seemed that his earlier guess had been correct. This was a cell. A door slid open rather abruptly and a Nerfalistallisian stepped into the room.

No, wait. Now that he could focus his eyes again, this being was different from the ones he'd seen before. More slender-looking, for one. Probably evolved to be suited for confined spaces such as wherever here was.

"With great apologies, honoured guest," the creature said, spreading its front two legs in what must be some sort of conciliatory gesture. Too bad he wasn't feeling forgiving at the moment. "It was not our intention to leave you without greeting."

He wasn't in the mood for general niceties. "Where's Rose?" he asked, not bothering to ask where he was or why he was here. That didn't matter.

"Rose? Who or what is Rose?"

He narrowed his eyes as he stepped closer to the wall. It was a bit hard to be intimidating from inside a cell, but he would certainly try it. "She's my -" He searched for a word, before settling on the one that had seemed to grant her certain privileges before. He was probably going to regret this later. "- mate. Blonde hair, brown eyes, tendency for getting into trouble? She was with me before you brought me here."

"That one is well. She is kept in a room much like this one, some twenty krells away from here. Before she can be brought to you, you must answer a few questions. You must understand that this is highly irregular. We are unused to dealing with your kind."

"Or else what?" he asked, doing his best to sound bored. "Oh, don't look at me like that. There's always an 'or else' attached to somethin' like that. You don't answer our questions, we'll beat you. Or we'll threaten your mate. Or we'll force you to watch 'The Teletubbies' on repeat. Mind, that would be a deadly punishment. Would sap a bloke's intelligence like that." He clicked his fingers in demonstration.

The Nerfalistallisian looked like it wasn't certain what to make of him. Good. He could use that.

"You want me to talk? You bring me Rose. That's the only way you'll have a chance of getting anything out of me," he continued, folding his arms before him. He levelled a glare at the alien that had made lesser beings tremble.

"This isn't the way things are done," the being replied.

"Do I look like I care?"

The Nerfalistallisian rubbed its forelegs together in a gesture that could only reflect indecision. "The Creed demands that you must answer my questions before such luxuries can be granted to you. Once that is done, we will bring your Rose to you."

"No," he said.

"This is highly irrational." There was something almost angry about those words and he found himself wondering about them. He suspected that the concept of 'irrational' was almost anathema to the being.

That was a key, he realised. A very valuable key. Might as well sum things up, he decided. He had all the clues he needed to make at least one, if not two, guesses about his current situation. There was his eight-legged friend who seemed to have evolved to move about narrow spaces. There was the faint rumble beneath his feet – engines, he realised – and there was obvious advanced technology that surrounded him.

He was in orbit. Only answer for it. This was some sort of space station. But he still needed to find Rose. Which meant he'd have to lie.

"No, it's not. Think about it. I was with her when you transmatted us. You said that you're unused to dealing with my kind. How do you know that this isn't what I need? How do you know that I am capable of answering your questions without her?

"Besides," he added, almost as an afterthought, "You haven't bought me a drink first. Bit hard to convince, me, without a drink. Especially on a blind date."

"Blind date? These words…irrational…illogical…" He almost pitied the poor confused creature. Almost.

"So why don't you tell me who you are and why I'm here, while one of your flunkies – assuming, of course, that you aren't alone up here – brings me Rose." He grinned and that seemed to flummox the Nerfalistallisian further.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, the Nerfalistallisian did as he asked. "I am Yerlnash, Guardian of the Illisniask…"

* * *

There was a flash of blinding red light and she only had enough time for a few thoughts to tumble through her mind before the beam struck her. Of all the ways that her story could've ended, this wasn't how she'd imagined it. This wasn't old age or a random accident. This was deliberate. Someone was trying to kill her.

It amazed her, really. Two days ago, the thought would've had her shaking in fear. She felt disassociated from it now. Numb, even. If she was supposed to die here, so be it. If it was supposed to be at the hands – legs? – of a giant spider, fine.

She knew that this life wasn't safe. Couldn't ever be safe, and she was okay with that. Really. She just had one regret. One final regret that she didn't get to say goodbye, didn't get to tell him that it was all right and that she wouldn't've missed it for the world. She knew him now. She knew that he'd drown himself in guilt and rage.

What hurt the most was that he wouldn't have a hand to hold, wouldn't have someone to comfort him or to talk to. If she was gone…

It took her a moment to realise that the beam was gone and that the spider-person was lowering what she'd thought was a weapon. "With great apologies, honoured guest," he – it? – said, gesturing with its free foreleg.

"What was that?" she asked, the combination of fear and relief causing her voice to tremble. "Why'd you shoot me with that thing?"

"This?" The alien blinked eight of its eyes as it lifted the device. "Do you not recognise medical scanning technology? We detected that someone was injured…"

Injured. Oh, hell. The Doctor. "Where's the Doctor? What've you done with him?"

"Who?"

"I was with him before you brought me here. What've you done? Where is he?" Worry added volume to her words, even as she hugged the leather jacket tighter to herself.

"Your mate is well," the spider-person said consolingly.

She wasn't going to let that stand. "An' how am I supposed to know that? Just take you at your word? Sorry, but no. You've got me locked up an' for all I know you've got him locked up too. Or you're doin' something to him and trying to keep me out of the way…" Her voice trailed off as her imagination ran wild.

If she didn't miss her guess, the spider-person looked horrified. "No, nothing like that! The Creed states that we must examine you separately. Once you both answer the questions that will be posed to you, you will be reunited."

Her lips narrowed. "Sorry, doesn't work like that."

"Explain."

She didn't know how she found the words. Perhaps from the fear or just from herself, but the right words came all the same. "For all I know, you're lyin' to me. The Doctor might not even be here. You might've jus' grabbed me 'cause I'm different or 'cause you thought you could get something out of me that you couldn't've got out of him. 'S not going to happen. You want answers? Sod off, then. I'm not talkin' to you or anyone else until I see the Doctor, yeah?"

It occurred to her as she stared at the spider-person that she should've been scared. Should've been frightened at staring down the equivalent of a giant arachnid, but she wasn't. Couldn't be. She was too numb for that. No, she was more scared for the Doctor than herself. Anything might've happened to him.

The alien didn't respond. Instead, it turned in its equivalent of a heel and left the room, leaving her alone. At least, she reasoned, she was left with the light.

She wasn't certain how long she'd be left alone, so she decided to make the most of the time. Examining her surroundings took less time than she'd expected. Her first impression of a confined area was absolutely correct. It was a cell. A bit stereotypical, too. There was a bed, a basin and nothing else. No privacy, for one.

She suspected that she was being watched as she ran her fingers around the edges of the transparent wall, trying to find the seam that'd indicate a door or an entrance, but she didn't care. She wanted out of here. She wanted the Doctor. Not necessarily in that order.

She was faced away from the transparent wall when she heard the click-click of someone approaching her cage. Straightening her posture, she turned. It wouldn't do to let them realise just how scared she was. Posturing could only get her so far, she realised. All she wanted was the Doctor now.

This spider-person stared at her before tapping its two forelegs together. There was a creaking noise and part of the transparent wall began to inch open. "You will come with me," it said.

"Sorry?" she asked, not sure if she'd heard it properly.

"You will come," it repeated. "You are to be taken to your mate."

She grinned. Finally. Admittedly, there was no guarantee that this wasn't a trap, but she'd take it. At least if she was out there she'd have a chance at escape. Shrugging on the leather jacket, she stepped through the widening gap between the walls and followed the spider-person. The hallways it led her through seemed rather shabby, at least to her eyes.

She'd seen what had been considered the height of luxury in the year five-billion. This looked like something that'd fallen into ruin. Lights flickered weakly overhead and she frowned. The cell had looked like it was well-tended, but what if that was just a trick?

What if that was why they hadn't wanted her to see the Doctor at first?

No, that didn't make sense. She shouldn't jump to conclusions. Some minutes later, the spider-person made another gesture with its forelegs and a door slid open in one of the walls. As she stepped inside, she lost track of where she was and what had happened to her.

Her gaze was only for the Doctor.

He was standing by another of the spider-people, just outside a cage that was virtually identical to the one she'd just left behind. It looked like he, too, was free. Then again, it was probably thanks to him that she was here in the first place. She doubted that her arguments had been persuasive enough to get her this far.

It took him a moment to realise that she was there, but she knew the instant that he did. His gaze locked with hers and it was as though they were the only two people in existence. It was a heady feeling, really. They hadn't been separated that long, not really, but it felt like an eternity. She suspected that this must be a fraction of how a person dying of thirst would feel upon seeing water. He was alive and, apparently, uninjured. Or at least, not any _more_ injured.

There were lines of fatigue and pain around his eyes, but they were shadowed by the fierce, burning joy that radiated from his expression. She knew that her own face reflected the same. "Took you long enough," he said, grinning at her.

"Yeah, you know me. Had to get into trouble first," she replied, echoing that smile.

She wasn't certain who moved first. Her or him, it didn't matter, for seconds later she was wrapped in his arms, breathing in his familiar and comforting scent. She didn't realise how much she'd needed this until it had happened and she relaxed into him, letting herself feel protected and secure despite their surroundings.

When she was ready, she pulled away from him slightly to meet his affectionate gaze. "Little big for you," he said, fingering the lapel of the leather jacket.

"Oh, I dunno, thought it was rather fetching myself." She shrugged her shoulders, making to take it off, but he arrested her movement with a cautioning hand.

"Keep it for now." He turned his head towards the spider-people and released her enough so that she could move to his side. Surprisingly, he didn't remove the arm around her shoulders. Instead, he kept her securely tucked against him.

"So, where were we?" he asked. "Oh, yeah. Explanations."

* * *

It was all starting to make sense. Well, enough for him to start drawing some sketchy conclusions. He wanted to take Rose aside, to ask her about what had happened while she was away from him, but he knew that this wasn't the time. He'd sort that out later. For now, he had a bigger problem to look into.

"I'm the Doctor and this is my mate – " It was surprising, really, how easily that word slipped from his tongue now. "-Rose Tyler. We were jus' travelling through when we got stuck in the little civil war that's going on down on the planet surface."

Yerlnash moved its forelegs in an unidentifiable gesture. "We did not detect your presence until you were in the village. The sensing devices should've noted your approach before you ever breached the protective covering of the planet."

"Ah, yes. Doubt that you would've seen us. Came through on the opposite side of the planet." He wasn't about to imply that he could just appear and disappear with no-one any the wiser. Wouldn't be a good idea, that. Might give the locals ideas that they shouldn't be entertaining.

He could tell that the Nerfalistallisian was considering his words carefully, weighing them against some internal measure. A heavy silence fell over them and he wondered at it. If the space station's sensors were in full repair, it was feasible that they might've been able to detect an arriving spacecraft on the opposite side of the planet. However, from what little Yerlnash had told him, he suspected that their sensor coverage wasn't what it once was.

Then again, he thought that there was a lot that wasn't 'what it once was' around here. The technology that he'd seen on the planet surface wasn't much above the Humanian Renaissance Era. The weapon that he'd been shot with was an exception, but the rest – fire for warmth and light, wood and worked metal for furniture and buildings – fit with that conclusion.

This, however, didn't. This space station represented technology far beyond what was in evidence on the planet below.

Yerlnash focused all of its eyes upon him. "You represent an enigma, Doctor. An impossibility in regards to how we understand the Creed. There are writings that imply that others of your kind have been to this world before, but most of them have been lost to time. I would learn more of you, of how you function, of how your being can exist in such a direct contradiction to the Creed. I would study you and your mate, learn how you live and breed, but I will not."

The other Nerfalistallisian made a strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a cry of shock. "Then why bring them here?"

Yerlnash didn't respond to the question. Instead, it kept its gaze locked upon him. "I have but one question for you, Doctor. Why are you here?"

There were dozens of possible answers. Hundreds. Billions. Yet only one of them was the correct choice.

He let the question hang for a moment, considering his options. In the end, he decided upon the simplest response. "Curiosity," he replied.

Yerlnash nodded, and he knew that he'd chosen well. "It is as I thought. You are a Guardian, too."

He blinked. "An' what's a Guardian when he's at home?"

"One who lets his curiosity guide him in his learning. One who seeks to understand what is around him in all ways."

No, wait. Not a guardian at all. A scientist. That was it. The clue he'd been searching for. "I've been looking at this all wrong, haven't I?" he asked suddenly, feeling Rose start against his side. Yerlnash blinked eight of its eyes at him, but didn't respond.

"Guardians up here an' a civil war down below. But it's not that, not really, is it? 'S more than that."

"It's about those drawings, isn't it?" Rose asked.

He found himself staring at her in shock. That was… Of course! "You, Rose Tyler," he said, pressing a firm kiss against the crown of her head, "are brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, you are. That's it!"

"What?"

He didn't answer her. "Classic setup, it is. Tell me something, Yerlnash. How long have you lot been up here? Have you gone down to the surface?"

"Always and not since the Dark Time," Yerlnash replied.

He couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. Of course their history'd be cloaked in obscurity. Call it the 'Dark Time' and let it be. Everyone knew what it was, so there. But this lot were the scientists. They should've asked, should've shown that there was more in their heads than just air. No, they wouldn't though, would they? None of it mattered, not really. Not when everything they knew was right here.

How many generations? How many years had passed since the 'Dark Time'? Probably just before those cave paintings were created, if he didn't miss his guess.

"But you've brought people up here. Haven't you sent 'em back?" he asked.

All of Yerlnash's eyes blinked at once. "You are the first in over sixteen revolutions, Doctor. But once someone is here they must stay."

"'Cause you don't want them to tell your secrets?" Rose asked.

"Not at all. The ones that were taken, at first, were unable to understand. It was only later, after many rotations, that they did. Did you not realise? The teleportation device only works one way. Once you are here, you can never leave."

Oh. He hadn't thought of that.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5: Hotel California

**Chapter 5: Hotel California**

She'd suddenly become part of the lyrics of an old Eagles song. This wasn't a space station. This was the Hotel California in space. She just hadn't realised it before. Then again, why should she? Easiest assumption in the world, that. You got in, follows that you should be able to get out again.

When she glanced at the Doctor, the look on his face seemed to imply he'd never even considered that possibility. She wasn't sure if she was more reassured or bothered by that particular fact. Then again, she knew far too well that he wasn't infallible. He could make mistakes like any other bloke. He could get injured, even die…

She bit her lip as the vivid image of his face contorted in agony just a few hours before came to the forefront of her mind. He was fine. She focused on the comfort of his touch, the weight of his arm around her shoulders and the feel of his fingers as they absently tapped against her skin. He was fine, she reminded herself. They were fine. There was just the tiny problem of their being, well, stuck.

For a moment, she allowed herself to believe in the fantasy that Yerlnash didn't know what it was saying. Of course they could leave. At any time. Just the Doctor and her, heading back to the TARDIS where they'd promptly forget that any of this ever happened. But that was a lie that she couldn't tell herself, not now. Not after this.

She wouldn't forget this, couldn't. And, now, it seemed like she wouldn't be able to, simply because it'd never end. No. She wasn't thinking straight. She was filthy, frightened and stuck.

It wasn't necessary to turn her head, to look at him, to know that he was staring at her again. She could feel the weight of his gaze. It comforted her, knowing that he was here and that she wasn't dealing with this alone. His hand tightened on her shoulder for a moment in a reassuring squeeze before he began to speak. "Seems a bit useless, that. One-way trips, only come up but never go down. What happens if something goes wrong here? Got escape capsules or a ship or something of that sort?"

Yerlnash just stared at him. "Your words have no meaning," it finally said.

That didn't make sense, though. This was a space station. Surely things had gone wrong before. Always did on the telly. Least from what she could remember from those times when Mickey had forced her to watch another episode of _Star Trek_ something or other. "What about hull breaches or weird energy spikes or, I dunno, what if someone's sick? How do you get help?"

The other spider-person answered her question instead. "We are all the help we need."

Was it thick? Before she could voice that particular opinion, the Doctor shook his head. "How'd you lot get up here in the first place? Can't've just teleported up, wouldn't work like that. Had to've built this place first an' that means you had some sort of ship."

Yerlnash blinked all of its eyes at once. "I do not understand. We have been here since the beginning."

The beginning? What sort of daft answer was that? The Doctor was right. This space station had been built. Maybe, like the International Space Station that Mickey had always been raving about, it had been built on the planet first, then hauled up here and assembled. Didn't really matter, though. What was important was that there had been a way back to the planet surface. It was probably still here. They just had to think. Ask more questions. Something.

She didn't want to live out the rest of her life here. No, wait. Yerlnash said that they could only bring things to the space station. Why couldn't they just bring up the TARDIS? That'd solve this in one go. Bring it up and they could be inside in time for a cup of tea. God, she could murder a good cuppa after a long, hot shower.

"This teleport, does it work on things that aren't, well, people? Like boxes or something like that?" she asked. The Doctor drew in a sharp breath and she shot him a concerned glance, wondering if he was still hurting. However, though she could still see lines of pain around his eyes, the look he was giving her showed nothing but pride.

"No. It is only meant for the living."

The Doctor's sigh echoed her own. "Right. Well, only one thing for it. I'll need to look at your teleporter. Give it a once over. Won't take long."

"That is not allowed," Yerlnash said, rubbing its front legs together.

"Not allowed? Whatever for? You can watch if that's what you want. Won't damage it. Just need to have a look," the Doctor replied.

"No-one may touch the device, Doctor. It is not allowed."

The spider-person was starting to sound like a broken record. The Doctor's hand tightened again on her shoulder and she glanced at him, reading the tension in his jaw. He was trying not to lose his patience, but she knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

"You already said that," he said. "Why?"

"The Creed forbids it. Your curiosity does you credit, but this cannot be changed. You are not allowed near the teleporter," Yerlnash explained.

Any possible response on her or the Doctor's part died a quick death when the world tilted sideways and the lighting changed to a deep mauve. There wasn't enough time to gasp in astonishment, to scream, to shout. There was only enough time to scramble for some sort of footing, to attempt to remain standing, when gravity tried to pull her in a different direction.

The Doctor's arm became a vice around her upper body, cradling her close. Somehow, he managed to keep them in one place, but she could tell that the effort was costing him dearly. There was sweat on his brow, something that she'd never seen before. "Artificial gravity's giving out," he told her through gritted teeth.

Not good.

She knew that he'd lie to her if she asked if he was okay. Hell, she knew he wasn't, but there wasn't anything that she could do. They had to get back to the TARDIS. Somehow, someway. And to do that, they had to rely on their 'friends'.

When she looked past the Doctor's shoulder, she realised that the spider-people hadn't fared as well as they had. The wall just behind the Doctor was now, technically, the floor. From what she could see, at least two of Yerlnash's limbs were lying at angles that she knew weren't natural and its eyes were half-closed in what she assumed was pain. The other spider-person didn't seem to have fared any better, though all of its eyes were closed and it did not move.

"It's finally come." Yerlnash's voice was hoarse with pain.

"Hold on," she said, "We'll come to you." It didn't matter that Yerlnash had been difficult before, nor did it matter that it hadn't helped them. What mattered was that it was injured.

The station's gravity seemed to be holding now, so she gently extracted herself from the Doctor's grasp and began sliding her way down to Yerlnash. The sound of her feet scraping against the floor seemed oddly doubled and she realised that the Doctor was following her.

"What?" the Doctor asked and she looked up at him with a confused expression.

Ignoring her, he continued, "You said that something's finally come. What?" Oh, she realised. He was talking to Yerlnash.

Three of its eyes suddenly focused on her, even though she hadn't been doing the talking. "The end," it said.

Oh. That didn't sound good.

* * *

"It's not the-" he started to say before cutting himself off. What if it was? The end. All sorts of context there. But something about the way Yerlnash said 'the end' made him think it was a belief, a teaching. Something from this Creed, perhaps? Either way, didn't really matter.

It was just the artificial gravity acting up. A few minutes and some replacement bits as needed, the gravity should go back to normal. Dismissing it for the moment, he tried to reach for one of Yerlnash's legs, but the sharp pain that shot through his body at the effort caused him to stop half-way.

He'd almost succeeded in forgetting about his little injury. He must've strained it more than he'd thought when he had caught Rose. The pain wasn't going to let him forget, not now. Breathing in deeply, he forcefully detached himself from his injuries. He'd pay for this later, of course, but he didn't have time to coddle himself.

He opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – to find Rose staring at him, concerned. "All right?" she asked.

He grinned at her, covering his weakness with a lie. "Fine," he said. She didn't believe him. He could tell that much from the stubborn tilt to her chin, but he didn't have the time to sort her too. Best to give her something else to think about. "Come on, need your help to sort Yerlnash here. Not too familiar with your physiology, Yerlnash. If we straighten your legs, will you be able to heal?"

"Yes."

"Good enough," he said and busied himself in doing what he could. A glance at the other Nerfalistallisian revealed that it wasn't going to be getting up again. Grimly, he returned to his task.

It was only after he had finished that he realised several minutes had passed. Surely it'd been enough time to sort the gravity. Oh, no. Wait a moment. Stupid! Oh, it was completely daft of him to think that they could. He just hadn't been thinking.

Time. That was the key. Their _bodies_ told him everything. He just hadn't seen it before.

They'd evolved up here. Changed to fit this space station. Got smaller, slimmer. Less bulk to them, better suited for crawling through confined spaces. That took years, millennia. They probably didn't even know how the station worked, just that it did. Always had, always would.

"You don't know how to fix the artificial gravity, do you?" he asked.

Yerlnash lifted one of its limbs weakly. "It is the end," it repeated, not answering the question. That was all right, though. It was all the answer he needed.

"No it's not. Not yet, at least." He looked at Rose and grinned. "Come on, Rose. We've got to shift Yerlnash, get him to his feet. As for you, you are going to show us the way to your teleporter."

"Not allowed."

"Don't give me that," he replied sharply. Holding onto its beliefs, even in the face of destruction. Admirable trait, yes, but annoying when all he was trying to do was to save lives. "Think! You don't have any ships – and, if you did, probably wouldn't even work so I'm not going to try. Don't have any escape pods for the same reason. But what you do have is a perfectly functioning transporter. Just have to tweak a few settings and it'll be sorted. Now shift!"

Yerlnash hissed softly, but it let them help it to its feet. Its limbs hung awkwardly in front of it, but there was nothing he could do. He didn't have anything long enough to fashion into a sling that could fit around an arachnid body. "Then come." There was resignation in its voice, but it moved its bulk up the sharp incline of the floor towards the door gamely enough.

When they entered the hall for the first time, he realised that his earlier conclusions had been correct. The space station was in a shambles. Parts of the corridor were dark where the lighting had died, doors hung half-open and the general feel of the place was of a derelict vessel. The floors and walls were clean enough, but he could tell that their technology was breaking down.

It'd never been intended to last this long. He barely noticed the view outside the viewports as they passed them, catching glimpses of a normal view of space out of the corner of his eye. It was only when he heard Rose's gasp of astonishment that he paused.

"What?" he asked, turning to look at her. Her head was tilted upward, peering through a viewport.

"They've got a moon," she said, her eyes wide. "I didn't think… Wasn't there at night, yeah? Didn't think there was a moon. But there it is. An' stars. How's that possible, Doctor? I mean, when we were down there, on the planet, it was dark. Pitch black at night. Doesn't make sense, though. 'S right there! Why couldn't we see it?"

He crossed the short distance between them and followed her gaze. Sure enough, a sliver of a small moon was visible through the curved viewport. And beyond the soft yellow glow of reflected sunlight on the moon's surface, he could see the faint light of billions of stars.

Rose was right. It didn't make sense. Before he could give it more thought, the gravity shifted again. No, he realised, it wasn't the gravity. It was the station itself. What had been a sliver of a moon was waxing larger in the viewport. That could only mean one thing.

The orbit was shifting.

Damn.

"Come on," he said urgently, grabbing Rose's hand and ushering Yerlnash onward. "No time to waste. Where's that teleport?"

"Just ahead," Yerlnash said, leading them into a cavernous chamber. There were no viewports in here, only a very large set of double doors set into the opposite wall. Crates, what looked like a vehicle of some sort and a few other odds and ends had shifted to rest against those doors, an added bit of protection against what he suspected was on the other side.

Yerlnash pointed at two consoles that were set against the wall immediately to his left. Pulling out his sonic screwdriver, he started to examine the controls. "Tell me something, Yerlnash. In that Creed of yours, is there any mention of a shield?"

He put the screwdriver in his mouth and prised open a panel set beneath one of the consoles. His hand was buried within the circuitry when Yerlnash responded, "It is forbidden knowledge."

He pulled the sonic screwdriver from between his teeth with his free hand and gave the arachnid a glare. "Thought we were beyond that," he replied. Damn. He couldn't see beyond the wires. He needed… "Rose, need your help."

She was at his side in an instant. "What is it?" she asked.

"Hold this," he instructed her, pointing at his obstruction. "Just need to get it out of my way." As she did as he asked, he peered at the circuitry. His back was feeling warm and he knew that it was only a matter of minutes before the pain returned again. He could only detach himself from it for so long. Time was running out.

"This shield of yours. What's it for?" he asked. "No need to repeat yourself. Forbidden knowledge and all that. Got it. Don't have time to deal with the technicalities. Think it's important. So? What's it for?"

Reversing the polarity of the - Oh, yes. That'd do nicely. He spared half of his attention on Yerlnash's reply while he continued to work.

"According to our most ancient texts, it was meant as a weapon," Yerlnash admitted quietly.

"A weapon? A shield? How can somethin' like that be a weapon?" Rose asked.

"It blocks the sun," Yerlnash replied.

"Oh."

Oh, indeed. Made sense, really. Polarising the light over your enemy would deny him the sunlight he needed to grow food, to live. It'd make him desperate, of course. Make him want the light, crave it. But if the other side was stronger, yes. It had the possibility of being a devastating weapon.

"So you used it. Couldn't help yourselves, could you? Had this brilliant weapon just begging to be used so you did," he said scornfully. He shouldn't fault Yerlnash, not really. The Nerfalistallisians who deserved the blame were long gone. And their legacy was this. "You turned off the lights for half the planet, keeping your station in geostationary orbit. No need to worry about hurting anyone else. Just your enemy. No problem, right? Except it was. So what happened then?" He already knew the answer. Rose had seen it scratched on a cave wall.

"According to the texts, many died. In the aftermath, the shield was damaged. It could not be turned off." Yerlnash's voice faded to a whisper.

"But why didn't they send anyone to fix it?" Rose's question was soft, directed neither at him nor at Yerlnash.

He'd seen it happen before. Give a young, immature species a stick and they'd turn it into a gun, then a missile, then a disease. There were always more creative ways of killing until, in the end, even the so-called winners failed. Civilisations had crumbled when weapons like the shield were used. This was yet another world to add to that tally.

Yerlnash didn't reply to Rose's question, but he knew that she still didn't quite understand. "No-one was left who could. Think about those cave paintings, Rose."

Her lips formed a round 'oh' as understanding dawned. "That's why they don't have metal walls and blasters an' things on the planet, isn't it? 'Cause no-one was left who knew how to make them."

He shook his head, wincing as pain bloomed in his back. He firmly told himself to concentrate. "Partly that and partly time itself. Some things were probably left. The locals had some basic know-how. Enough to scrabble together some sort of civilisation, but nothing more. Basic lives at the moment before the cycle starts again. That's what happens after wars like that end. Everyone loses."

He let her consider his words as he focused on the circuitry in his hands. Just one more tweak should do it. Changing the setting on his sonic screwdriver one-handed, he turned it on and listened to the hum. Seconds later, the console began emitting a hum of its own, louder and deeper than that of his screwdriver. Grinning, he shut off the slender device and slipped it into his pocket. "All done," he declared, nodding for Rose to let go of the wires. "One fully functional teleporter. Yerlnash, you'll need to get your friends. Got to get you out of here before anything-"

He didn't get to complete his sentence before something exploded. It was some distance from where they were judging by the shudders rippling through the deck, but it was still strong enough to cause the lighting to dim momentarily before it returned to its previous mauve. "Rose, check one of the viewports and tell me what you see," he said, a sudden terrible knowledge filling him with urgency.

Rose didn't bother to ask him why. She scrambled to her feet and ran into the corridor. Moments later, her voice reached him. "'S the planet, Doctor. I can see the planet. But it was on the other side before. It's getting larger."

The orbit was degrading even faster than he'd thought. That explosion must've been one of the thrusters that had been maintaining the station's position. Right. No time to waste. "Yerlnash, get your friends. Now. We're leaving. Rose! Get back here!"

The Nerfalistallisian scrambled towards the door, a faint grunt of pain as it moved the only indication it made that it was still hurting. Its footsteps faded into the distance as Rose crouched by his side. Her expression was strangely solemn as she looked at him.

"We're gonna crash, aren't we?" she asked. Before he could do more than open his mouth to reply, she continued, "'S okay, you know. Really. Thing is, even if we go down to the planet, that's not going to help, is it?"

His expression was grim as he considered his next words carefully. He could lie to her, tell her that everything would be fine, but it wouldn't. Couldn't, really. Even after breaking up in the atmosphere, the space station would probably remain in several large pieces. Something this size would have a devastating effect upon the planet below. If the impact didn't kill off most life on the planet, the subsequent climate changes would.

Even if they managed to get to the planet surface, it'd be too late. They'd have to find the TARDIS first. There was no guarantee that he could manipulate the coordinates enough to get them near to his ship. He didn't know if he could protect her from that. "No," he said softly. "Not really. Yerlnash was… Oh."

His eyes widened as he thought about it. Oh, sure, he could teleport everyone to the planet's surface. Easy, simple, that. But what he really needed to do was to find a way to keep the space station from hitting the atmosphere. Once it did, it'd be all over. But he could do something about it. He had everything he needed right in front of him. Giant space station? Had one of those. A rather large shield? It was just waiting for the right settings.

The only problem was Rose. If she stayed with him, she'd probably be killed. If she left, well, she might have a chance. He wasn't going to let her get hurt, not now. His jaw clenched as he met her gaze, wishing that there was another choice. He'd got her into this. Made it his job to get her out of it.

"Rose, I need you to do something for me," he said, placing one of his hands on her shoulder. "When I send Yerlnash and his friends to the surface, you're going with them."

"Doctor, no," she began to protest against his words, but he cut her off.

"I'll be fine, me. Thing is, it's about to get a little hairy up here and you'd best be on the planet, trying to get to the TARDIS. Get inside her, and you'll be fine." He flashed her a grin.

Several Nerfalistallisians entered the room before Rose could respond. He was glad for the distraction. "Right," he said once they were crowded around him. "You lot, I'm going to transport you down to the planet. I just need you to stick close together, okay? No moving. Rose, you too."

He waited until she was near the lot of the locals and turned his attention to the controls. A few button presses, flicking that switch there and…yes. The high-pitched whine of the teleporter filled the room.

Good. Now that that was sorted, he could focus on adjusting that shield. Controls were probably in the station's equivalent of a bridge. Most species tended to keep it simple. Stick the bridge at the most central and highest point. That was where he needed to go.

Turning, he stopped mid-stride to stare at a very determined-looking Rose Tyler. The Nerfalistallisians were gone and she'd stayed. Of course she'd stayed. "You're not doing this without me," she said, folding her arms before herself.

What was she, daft? Stepping out of a teleport? How could she know when he'd trigger it? How could she know that she was at a safe distance? What if she'd been too close and her hand got sent to the planet without her? Or more of her? She could've died. But no, she'd stayed put because she thought he needed her.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he asked her, his worry translating into anger. "Do you know what could've happened? You could've died, Rose! Died! You still might die! Why didn't you do as I asked?"

"You need me," she said simply, not backing down. He could tell that she was frightened, but she was forcing herself to think through it.

"Yes, I do," he agreed. Far too much, he admitted to himself. "I need you to be safe."

"Better here than down there, Doctor. You don't know where we could've ended up. Might be too far from the TARDIS to do me any good. But I'm here, yeah?"

His jaw clenched. She was stubborn, he had to give her that. But he doubted that he could set up the teleport again. No guarantee that it'd take her to safety, now. Without the Nerfalistallisians for protection, anything could happen. No choice. She had to stay.

Just as she'd wanted. "All right, then," he said and, in a quicksilver change of his mood, he offered her one of his manic grins. "Come on, Rose. We're off to save the world."

"An' that's different, how?" she asked.

She did have a point.

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6: The Falling Sky

**Chapter 6: The Falling Sky**

There was the slightest hint of smoke in the air, she realised, finally placing the acrid scent. Images of fire and the suddenly far-too-thin walls that separated her from nothingness filled her mind as she stumbled in the Doctor's wake over the slanted floors. Biting her lower lip, she tried to concentrate on something else, anything to dismiss the fear from her mind.

It was easy to focus on the Doctor, she decided. Even injured, there was pure poetry in his movements. She'd never tire of watching him. That was impossible. But without his leather jacket he looked almost naked to her eyes. She was so used to seeing him in his armour, seeing him as larger-than-life, that this was still a bit of a shock.

Blood had dyed the green material of his jumper almost black around the wound. She knew that he was still in pain. The slight greyness of his skin – not, thankfully, as bad as it'd been before – and the way he moved so very carefully, as if every step was jarring. It probably was.

He'd tell her if there was a problem, wouldn't he? If his injuries were worse than he'd made out, he'd let her know. Right? Or would he try to protect her?

She firmly reminded herself that this wasn't the time. She could worry about that later, provided there was a later. They were already facing imminent death. Best to worry about what they could do now. Anything else could wait.

He'd probably laugh at her if he knew, but she wanted to be here, with him, no matter what happened. It had probably been a daft thing to trick him like that. She was intelligent enough to realise that she could've been hurt, if not killed, if she hadn't been careful. But he needed her. She'd seen it in his eyes, no matter how much he'd deny it. Knew it in her heart, too.

She quickened her pace so she was walking beside him and slipped her hand into his. When his fingers tightened around her own, she knew that she'd made the right decision.

"So, what's the plan, then?" she asked.

He glanced down at her, giving her a grin that was at direct odds with the danger of the situation. "Find the shield's controls, change the settings, save the world. Simple enough, really."

That startled a laugh out of her. "Yeah, simple."

The grin didn't fade from his face as he led her deeper into the station. The corridors seemed strangely well-kept, almost gleaming. The only thing that hadn't changed, though, was the lighting. It flickered constantly, bathing their path in alternating darkness and brightness.

They walked past half-open rooms – bedrooms, offices and at least one place that looked like it could be a cafeteria - and barely lit hallways. At least twice they walked past yawning dark openings, places that seemed almost hungry for the light that it swallowed far too easily.

A chill ran down her spine as they moved deeper into the station. Though she knew that they were the only ones here, everyone else having transported to the planet's surface, that didn't seem to matter to her imagination. She kept thinking she heard something behind her, or down one of those corridors, or inside one of the rooms.

She knew that all she was doing was scaring herself, but it didn't seem to matter how much she reminded herself of that particular fact. She told herself that it was the chill that caused her to move closer to the Doctor, to grip his hand that much tighter. It was a tiny lie, but it wasn't one that he seemed willing to call her on.

It seemed to take an eternity, though it was probably only a few minutes, until they finally reached a large oval-shaped room that was kept even cleaner than the corridors that they'd just been through. There were a few images on the walls, interspaced between panels of flickering and changing patterns of colour. A console of some sort stood in the centre of the room, more pillar-like than anything else, with strange slashes cut into its base. It took her a moment to realise that they were about the correct size for one of those spider-people to put their legs.

"Ah," the Doctor said, almost in satisfaction. Giving her hand a quick squeeze, he released her and headed – or, rather, skidded - directly for one of the flickering panels on the wall. She didn't know how he could possibly know which was the right one. There was no pattern, no obvious layout that she could see. Nothing to indicate that that was a control for a shield or anything else.

She let her gaze make a slow circuit of the room, trying to see if she could guess what each panel did. She could almost hear his chiding tone as he told her to stop thinking of things like a human. In all likelihood, the mostly green panel that she'd been studying controlled the engines rather than something related to health as she was guessing.

By the time that she'd finished her turn, he'd already prised the panel loose from the wall and had his arm half-buried inside the circuitry. He was muttering to himself, something about shoddy designs and reversing something, punctuating his words with the hum of the sonic screwdriver.

It took her a moment to realise that the vibration she was feeling wasn't because of the sonic screwdriver. The deck was shaking. She wanted to do something. Help the Doctor – though there wasn't enough space to hold any of the wires out of his way. Something. She was feeling rather useless. They were alone on the station, so she couldn't keep an eye out for guards or something that wouldn't want them there.

Shoving her fingers into her pockets, she grimaced as the blood-caked fabric cracked a little with the movement. She was looking forward to getting clean again, she decided. There was too much blood on them both for her peace of mind.

Sighing softly, she returned her gaze to the panels. One of them seemed to be alternating between a mauve-like colour and yellow; however, the scratch-like markings that flashed in and out of existence meant nothing to her. However, she knew that it could easily prove to be important.

"Doctor?" she asked. "This panel over here's blinkin' like mad. Going all mauve and yellow every few seconds."

That got his attention. He turned toward her, his eyes wide. "Which one?"

She pointed in the appropriate direction and he glanced at it, muttering something in a musical language that the TARDIS refused to translate. "Rose, on that centre console. Hit the big red button when I tell you."

She slid, more than walked, to the console, holding on its edge with a white-knuckled grip as the station began shaking in earnest. There wasn't enough time to make a careful study of the panel. No time to do more than locate the button and hold her finger above it.

There was a burst of sparks and another muttered curse before the Doctor said, "Now!"

She pushed the button and everything stopped.

All she could hear was the pounding of her heart, the harshness of her breathing. The rest of the world had narrowed down to just her. The shaking, the noise, had disappeared. There was just how she felt, what she knew. Everything else was gone. For a second that lasted an eternity, she knew that she was going to die. Her Mum'd never know that her daughter was dead. Never know what happened to her. Just that she was gone. Died while trying to save another world.

But that wasn't the true tragedy, she knew. It was that the Doctor was going with her. She still wouldn't've missed this, didn't want to. But the world, the universe needed him.

Oh, god, this was it wasn't it?

Then reality returned. The station's tremors were even more violent now, rattling her bones and threatening to toss her loose from the console. The panel that'd caused this, at least the one she was blaming, was more mauve than it was yellow now. That, she decided, probably wasn't good.

She tried to look for the Doctor without losing her grip, but found it to be impossible. She caught a glimpse of his leg out of the corner of her eye and told herself that he must be all right. He had to be.

Her hands were hurting, her muscles aching from the strain of trying to keep herself in one place. She wasn't sure how much more she could take before she lost her grip. Grimly, she gritted her teeth and held on, telling herself that it couldn't last much longer.

She'd either live or die. She much preferred the former.

A few seconds passed before she realised that the shaking was dying off, becoming nothing more than faint trembles that faded into nothingness. They were alive. They'd made it! A quick look at the formerly blinking panel showed that it was now showing a steady yellow. It was over. It was finally over.

She loosened her trembling fingers from the console, feeling weak from relief. Turning, she caught sight of the Doctor, pushing himself to his feet. A wide grin was on his face, the pain overwhelmed by the fierce joy in his eyes. "We did it!" he exclaimed.

Before she could do more than grin in reply, he'd crossed the short distance between them, wrapping her in a strong embrace. He looked so happy, so relieved, that she wanted to laugh at his giddiness, laugh at her own feelings of relief.

When his lips met hers in an enthusiastic kiss, she wasn't expecting it. When he broke the kiss, he grinned at her, crowing again, "We did it!"

She wasn't sure if it was the kiss or the fact that they were still alive that left her more dazed.

She was really leaning more towards the kiss.

* * *

That, he'd admit, if only to himself, had been close. Very, very close. If he'd delayed a few seconds more, if his calculations had been off or if Rose hadn't pressed the activation button just when she had, they would've been killed. Not might've been or could be. No, that would've been a definite.

Thankfully, he was a genius. They'd sorted it and the space station was now on a leisurely trip to the sun. Fantastic.

He couldn't seem to stop grinning, nor could he stop hugging Rose. He probably shouldn't've kissed her. Bad idea, that. Could give her ideas that she shouldn't have, that he shouldn't have. She was still looking a little dazed and he couldn't help feeling rather proud at having done that. But, well, it was a good cause for a celebration. Living always was.

Right. He forced himself to release her, sliding one hand down her arm to grab her hand. Tugging her with him to face the console, he studied the readouts intently. The shield matrix itself was burnt out, that had been the cause for the second round of shaking. No need to worry about long, dark nights on the planet surface any more. That was done. Sorted.

They'd done it.

"Think it's about time we headed down to the planet," he said.

Rose grinned up at him, her tongue poking free from her lips. The dazed look was gone, displaced by relief and happiness. "You'll get no argument from me!"

They walked through the slanted halls, laughing a little as feet slipped or the one time he'd misjudged heights and bashed his head against a doorframe. However, beneath his glee, he was still in pain. His back felt as if someone were stabbing him repeatedly now. The burning pain was sharp enough that he knew he wasn't able to hide it any more.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, his movements were growing clumsier. He knew that he'd need to indulge in a healing trace once they returned to the TARDIS – the sooner, the better. But now wasn't the time. He couldn't listen to his body's demands, not yet. Not until they were both safe.

When they reached the room that held the teleporter, he wasn't certain what he might find. The jostling might've dislodged some of his repairs or even destroyed the transporter. Thankfully, luck was smiling upon him. It was still in one piece. A few of the crates had been jostled about, but it looked like his repairs had held.

Releasing a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding, he crossed the room, leading Rose to the controls. Checking their settings, he nodded once, satisfied with what he saw. "Hop over there," he said, pointing in the appropriate direction. "I'm going to set this to automatic..." Releasing her hand and trusting her to do as he asked, he flipped a switch and turned, moving as quickly as his hurting body would let him to join Rose.

He could hear the machinery hum, building the charge to being the teleport. Almost unexpectedly, he felt Rose's hand slip into his own and he wasn't certain if he was the one that reached first or if she had. Didn't matter, though.

A flash of light and it was over. They were back on the planet's surface, in the middle of a group of Nerfalistallisians.

Oh.

He tugged Rose a little closer to him, as if by his bulk alone he could protect her. It was only when he finally saw the familiar form of Yerlnash that he allowed himself to relax.

"What happened, Doctor?" Yerlnash asked, rubbing its forelegs together in a nervous gesture. He supposed that that was only to be expected. He had, after all, just destroyed the being's home.

"Oh, just a bit of jiggery-pokery and a lot of luck," he replied. "I'm sorry, Yerlnash. The space station is gone."

"What?" The Nerfalistallisian's voice was quiet, barely noticeable, the audible manifestation of its disbelief. "What have you done?"

"Saved you," Rose replied in his stead. "He just saved you."

"There's too much space," one of the others said, its forelegs twitching spasmodically. "Too much above and around."

He frowned. That would be an issue, wouldn't it? A race used to living on a space station suddenly exposed to the open air and elements? No more narrow corridors or artificial air. Just the real thing for them from now on. Well, they'd sort it themselves. He couldn't hold their hands – well, legs – for this. That wasn't his job.

"The space station was causin' the troubles down here. Your great weapon caused all of this. And now it's gone. You lot can get back to doin' what you're supposed to be doing. It'll be hard, but worth it," he explained.

"But…" Yerlnash started to say, but couldn't finish, its entire body drooping.

"Everything ends," he told Yerlnash grimly. "You learn to live with it." He supposed that he shouldn't give them advice. Not when he'd never truly learned how to live with what had happened to him. The Daleks, the Time Lords. All gone now, yes. Except for him.

Rose's hand tightened around his own and she leaned into him, her human warmth seeping into him, bringing relief from the chill that he suspected was resident in his soul rather than due to the air around him. She wanted to help him, he knew. Wanted to save him. That was what her compassion drove her to do, to care for an old fool like him.

She probably didn't know how much she'd already done for him just by being there. He looked down at her tousled blonde head where it rested against his shoulder and smiled faintly. Some day he would tell her, he supposed.

Just not now.

"But what should we do?" Yerlnash asked, and he could tell that it felt out of its depth, unable to cope with what had happened. Perhaps he should regret having introduced these scientists to reality, but somehow he couldn't.

He gave Yerlnash a look. "Live. 'S as simple as that. Listen, there's a group of locals some, oh, five miles that way. Introduce yourself to Urshtal, tell 'em I sent you. Should be good enough. On second thought, don't tell 'em I sent you."

"Doctor, you're not coming with us?" Yerlnash asked.

"Nope, sorry. I don't do that sort of thing. The rest is up to you. Have a good life, you lot." He grinned at them, ignoring their mutterings as he tugged Rose a few feet away from the Nerfalistallisians.

He did his best to hide his clumsiness as he attempted to pull the sonic screwdriver from his pocket. It took him a few moments to prise it free and another few to force his fingers to work properly to change its settings. Thumbing it to life, he studied its readings and turned it off again, slipping it back into his jeans. "C'mon, Rose, back to the TARDIS," he said and started walking in the appropriate direction.

She cast a glance over her shoulder, back at the arachnids. "Do you think they'll make it?" she asked.

He looked at her, wincing as the movement jarred his back. "Don't know. 'S up to them now."

Rose was silent for several minutes and he suspected that she was thinking about his words. She should know by now that he didn't do that sort of thing. Would only lead to a world of heartache, not to mention tying him to one spot, one planet.

No. He didn't do that.

He bit back a curse as he stumbled on a loose rock. The terrain was rough and would've been a challenge had he been in perfect health. Now it was almost impossible.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to continue. Much as it was tempting to give in now, he couldn't. Not yet. Not when they were so close to home. He'd prefer it if she didn't realise just how injured he was. Oh, she probably knew. Had an inkling. But nothing more. Only way, really.

He'd just go to his room, lock the door, have a bit of a kip and be sorted by morning. Rose wouldn't know anything had been wrong. It was a brilliant plan. Fantastic.

And from the look on her face he could tell that she wouldn't believe him. He knew she was worried. Even a bit scared. He tried his best to reassure her, giving her a brilliant smile that, he suspected, didn't manage to hide his wince as another stabbing burst of pain bloomed from the wound.

No, it definitely hadn't worked.

"How 'bout you?" she asked. He was right. She had noticed.

"What about me?" Maybe humour would help.

"Are you gonna make it back to the TARDIS?" Rose wasn't buying his levity. He resolved to work on that later.

"Yeah," he replied. "No problem. Just need a few things in the medical room an' I'll be fine."

He didn't tell her that it was a lie that was becoming harder to maintain.

* * *

She eyed the lengthening shadows warily as they walked across the rocky plain. She hadn't forgotten her first night on this planet – never would, most likely. She knew that the problem of complete darkness was gone. She could still get back to the TARDIS, even at night. She just wasn't certain if the Doctor could make it that long.

He was starting to lean heavily on her, his movements turning clumsy and awkward. When she got a good look at him, she saw that his face was a mask of pain and she knew he'd been lying to her. Disentangling her hand from his, she pulled his arm around her shoulders and placed her own around his waist. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but this way she could try to keep him balanced.

She worried her upper lip as they walked – more stumbling than walking, really. His weight kept her off-balance and, as he leaned even more heavily upon her, her steps slowed. At least the TARDIS wasn't too far away, she consoled herself. She could catch glimpses of the blue box through the brush just ahead, nestled between the small hills that lined the mountains where they'd sought shelter the day before from the night creatures.

A few more minutes, she reminded herself. They could make it that far. Almost home.

Yet, even if she got the Doctor into the TARDIS, what good would that do them? She didn't like the pallor of his skin or the obvious pain that characterised each move he made. What could she do to help? He'd never told her how to use the medical equipment. Best she could do was to bring him to the medical room. That was it.

Hell, he was always the one doing the healing. Never her. What if she mucked it up somehow? What if-?

Now she was just being silly. She could ask him. Easiest thing in the world, asking. No guarantee that he could answer, but she could ask. "Doctor," she said, trying to capture his attention.

He grunted slightly, though whether it was from pain or acknowledgement of her words she didn't know.

Taking it as the latter, she continued, "What can I do to help? Is there something in the medical room that I'd need to use? That green blinky probe thing, maybe?" She remembered that it had healed up a few scrapes she'd had before. Maybe it could help him?

He licked his lips, closing his eyes against, she assumed, the pain. Shaking his head, he grimaced at the motion. "Jus' rest," he said. "Rose, might seem…little odd. Hearts might… Need to let body do its work. Can't keep…" His voice trailed off and his weight seemed to increase as he all but toppled onto her.

_To be concluded..._


	7. Chapter 7: Daybreak

_T__hank you to everyone who has reviewed and enjoyed _Darkness Falls_. I appreciate every single one of your comments! I hope you enjoy the last chapter :) I must also add an extra thanks to Aibhinn and NNWest for coming in and BRing this last chapter as well. - Gillian  
_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Daybreak**

Four hours.

She knew exactly how many breaths he'd taken, how many beats his hearts had made and every sound he'd uttered since his collapse. Bringing him to the TARDIS had been difficult. She'd winced with each rock she'd hit as she'd dragged him to the door. Somehow - she wasn't going to think about it too hard - the medical room had moved in the amount of time it'd taken her to drag him across the console room's floor. The door, instead of leading to the TARDIS' interior, had led straight to the familiar off-white room.

Somehow the ship had known what she'd needed. Then again, the Doctor had always insisted that the TARDIS was alive: a living ship that got into her head. So maybe, just maybe, it had known. No matter, though. They were as safe as she could make it. But he still wouldn't wake up.

His dead weight had been more of a hindrance than a help when she'd been wrestling him onto the bed. But somehow she'd managed to find the strength to do so, letting him rest there while she found a chair and dragged it to his bedside. It was a struggle to shift him, but she knew that she had to get him onto his side. Basic first aid, that. When she finally managed to roll him properly, she let her hand hover over his face, wanting to touch but not daring.

She was reassured by each puff of warm air that crossed her palm, but it was a hollow feeling. He might be alive in body, but how could she know about his mind? He could've been injured elsewhere, a spot that she couldn't detect by touch or sight alone.

She felt as though she'd been tossed into stormy waters without a life-jacket. Nothing to cling to. She'd had nothing to do, except wait. She'd already done at least three circuits around the room, eying the various objects that lined the walls and opening drawers to peer at what was hidden inside. The only thing that she thought she might be able to use was that probe, but what if it was something made for humans and there was something else made for Time Lords? Like a blue blinking device instead of a green one or-?

She tried to convince herself that her worries were groundless. He was an alien, yes. Maybe he could just shake this off like he'd implied? What if he'd just sleep and then wake up, bright-eyed and ready for the next adventure?

God, how could she even use that as an excuse?

This not knowing was driving her mad. She already knew that she wouldn't leave his side for more than a few minutes. So she might as well get comfortable. Sighing, she pillowed her head on her arms next to him, staring at his relaxed features. The lines of pain were gone, though his greyish pallor remained. If she could ignore his appearance and the reasons behind it, he seemed almost younger this way. More carefree. As if the weight of the universe had granted him this momentary break and he was relishing every moment.

She wondered sometimes if he dreamed. Did he dream of fire, of death or of terror? Or did he dream as she did? Strange mixtures of reality and fantasy, of what could be, what was, and what definitely wasn't? Did he dream of her?

He sighed softly and she shook herself out of her reverie. She should feel like a voyeur, staring at him like this, but she didn't. What did that say about her?

His lips were partly open and one of his hands was outstretched, almost as if he'd been reaching for her. She wanted him to wake up. It was a mantra that she repeated in her mind.

_wakeupwakeupwakeup… _

It didn't work. He remained as he was, stubbornly asleep. And when next he sighed there was a ring of finality to it.

She wasn't certain what had made her think of it like that. His expression hadn't changed, his body hadn't moved. Oh. That was when her heart skipped a beat, or possibly twenty, because in the wake of that sigh he hadn't breathed again. "Doctor?" she asked, touching his cheek. His skin was so cold. Should it be that cold? "Doctor, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Not a sound, not a breath, not even the twitch of a muscle. Just absolutely nothing.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she finally touched him, sliding her fingers to press against his neck.

Even his hearts weren't beating.

"No, oh god, no. Not now," she murmured, panic beginning to overwhelm her. What could she do? She'd had some basic first aid training, but that was it. What was it they did in _Holby City_? No, the other one. _Casualty_. All that thumping people's chests and breathing into them until they started breathing again. Maybe she could try that?

Grimly, she shifted him onto his back, crawling onto the bed beside him. There wasn't much room for her, but it'd have to do. Pressing her hands over one of his hearts, trying to remember what they did on the telly, she paused, staring at his open eyes. It must've been her imagination, she decided, but she could've sworn that he'd winked at her.

Lifting her hands from his chest, she frowned. Maybe he was okay? Just pretending? She crawled forward, bracing her hands on each side of his head as she tried to look into his eyes. There was no life there, not that she could see. No spark of humour or intelligence. No compassion or excitement. There was just a dull, glassy quality to them that all but sent her into another panic.

She forced herself to focus. He obviously hadn't winked at her but, just in case, she pressed her fingers against his neck, feeling for a pulse. She didn't want to give into the hope because she knew it'd be crushed. That was as inevitable as, well, the sun expanding.

However, nothing stirred against her finger tips. No breath brushed against her skin as she leaned over him. He was dead.

A strangled sob escaped her lips as she moved so that her lips were just above his own. Her tears splashed unheeded against his cheek and she leaned downwards, the half-formed idea of giving him some of her breath filling her mind. But when her lips touched his there was nothing. She couldn't even gather enough breath to share because hers was stolen with each sob.

What she'd meant to be a life-saving kiss became a goodbye that she didn't want to make. And, unwilling to step away, unwilling to acknowledge that it was over, she pressed her face against the hollow between his shoulder and his collar bone and cried.

She lingered there, breathing in his scent with each sob, feeling misery wrap its cold hand around her heart. She didn't want to think about what came next, about what she could do. He was dead.

The Doctor was dead.

_No. God, no. He can't be..._

But he was. His hearts refused to beat, his lungs refused to fill with air. He was gone.

She thought that the tears would never stop, that the misery would never go away. She thought this was what her life was to become. In constant mourning for a man who had shown her the stars, a better way of living. In constant mourning for someone she-

She couldn't complete the thought. Not now.

No, she thought it'd never end, until, almost unbidden, it did as she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Her dreams were odd ones, punctuated by an odd double beat that was consistent only in its inconsistency. But she found the sound comforting, as comforting as the smell and feel around her, as though she was held in someone's arms. She sighed softly and burrowed into that warmth, nuzzling the fabric beneath her cheek.

She felt someone touch her hair, stroking it gently, and that sensation pulled her out of sleep. It was only when she realised that it was real that she turned her head and met the Doctor's warm gaze.

"Hello," he said.

And she screamed, overbalanced and slipped off the bed, to land with a hard thump on the floor.

* * *

Oh. 

He should've thought of that.

The Doctor was off the bed and kneeling beside her in an instant, feeling the faintest twinge of pain for his efforts. Best part about healing trances, really. All healed up with only phantom pains to remind him of his former injuries. Even those would fade in the next twenty minutes or so.

However, it looked like he'd miscalculated again. He'd had a speech all planned out, really. The 'Rose, if I get badly injured, Time Lords have this thing we do…' speech. Ranked right up there with the regeneration talk. Seemed that he'd forgot to complete that particular speech.

Either that or the words had come out wrong, which was possible. That was one of the problems with healing trances. Once his body had decided it was finished, didn't matter what he wanted. He'd just collapse and that'd be that.

He knew approximately what'd happened. Could even remember it in spurts. He'd hurt so much and he'd been so tired. Wasn't any shock that he'd fallen into a trance just then. He just wished he'd found a more opportune time to do it.

"You're dead," Rose whispered, cutting off the ramble of his thoughts as she lifted a trembling hand towards him, but stopped just shy of touching him.

He'd scared her. Terrified her, most likely. Idiot. This was the last time, he swore to himself. He wouldn't do that to her again, leaving her with half information and half lies. She deserved better than that. He would have that regeneration conversation with her.

Just not today. She'd had too much thrust upon her already. Capturing her outstretched hand in a gentle grip, he offered her a smile. "Hard to kill, me."

Her lower lip trembled as she stared at him, lifting her other hand to touch his face. He let her explore, knowing that she needed it and not quite wanting to admit that he did too. There was something comforting about her touch as her fingers ghosted over his face and his neck before coming to a rest against his throat.

He suspected that she was feeling his pulse, her face a study in concentration, when she finally looked at him. Really _looked_ at him like she hadn't before. "You're real," she said. It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yup," he replied. "Absolutely real. And in one piece, too. That's important."

There was no warning. One second she was staring at him and the next her arms were around him, her face burrowed into his chest, her tears soaking his jumper. With a soft sigh, he embraced her, cradling her close as she sobbed against him.

Stroking her hair gently, he settled them both into a more comfortable position with his back against the wall. He let her cry, saying nothing, just holding her. When her sobs faded to the random hiccough, he loosened his grip enough so that she could back away enough to look at him.

"What happened?" she asked. "I thought…Well, you know that I thought. How'd you do that? Is it an alien thing?"

His lips quirked into a smile. 'An alien thing'. "Yeah, a bit alien, that. Just something I have to do if I've been badly injured. My body can sort it, just needs to rest. It's called a healing trance."

"But your hearts, they stopped! An' you weren't breathing," Rose said, shaking her head. "Doesn't make sense! If that's a healin' trance, don't want to see what else you can do."

He told himself that he didn't wince. "Respiratory bypass. If needed, I don't have to breathe for a bit. Must've had enough damage done to my lungs to require it." He frowned. He hadn't realised that it'd been that bad. Good thing his body had decided to collapse when it had. It would've been rather inconvenient on a crashing space station.

"Suppose you've got an explanation for your hearts, too?" Rose asked.

He grinned. "Oh, they didn't stop. Just slowed down. 'S a bit like suspended animation, really."

"Why didn't you tell me, though? Would've been nice to know that you'd jus'... Right. I know, not enough time," she said wearily, looking away from him. There was something in her voice that encouraged him and he moved the hand that had been stroking her hair to nudge her chin so that she'd look at him.

"That's the problem with that sort of thing, Rose. Talking about it, well, it's never really a priority. Wasn't plannin' on needing to do it." He knew that they should've had that talk. Should've warned her of what might happen.

"Jus' like you didn't plan on getting shot or captured or…?" Her lips twitched slightly, as though she were almost tempted to smile. "Doesn't work like that, Doctor. This life isn't safe."

He winced. No, it wasn't safe. Like much of his life, things hadn't turned out as he'd planned. Nice trip to a new place. No running for their lives, no almost dying, no captures or daring rescues. Old age had obviously dulled his mind. He should've known.

And he'd brought her here. She could've died if things had gone differently. So far from home, with no way back. Death on an alien world, far from everything she'd ever known. He tightened his hold on her, letting her warmth remind him of everything he hadn't lost.

But he'd almost lost that too, hadn't he?

"Stop it," she said firmly, interrupting his musings.

He blinked. "What?"

"That!" she replied, as if 'that' was all the explanation she needed. "Feeling guilty. Not your fault, got it? So jus' stop."

He opened his mouth to protest against her words, but anything he might've said died the instant that her fingers touched his lips. Her skin flushed a brilliant red and she dropped her hand, turning slightly away from him.

There were so many things that he could tell her. About regeneration, about how glad he was that she was here, about Gallifrey.

Choosing one, he started, "I-"

"I-" she began and they looked at each other for a moment and laughed.

"You go first," he said, gesturing with one hand.

"I…I need a shower," she said and he was convinced that she wanted to say something else entirely.

"Yes," he agreed solemnly. "You do."

She laughed and swatted at him for his efforts. "So do you," she replied and her nose wrinkled as if that sentence had brought back the memories of the past several days. Perhaps it had.

Still laughing, she extracted herself from his arms to stand above him. "What were you going to say?" she asked.

_Rose Tyler, I'm so glad you're here._

_Rose Tyler, thank you._

_Rose Tyler, the healing trance isn't the only trick I can do…_

_Rose Tyler, I…_

"Thank you," he finally said, smiling at her.

A flicker of confusion crossed her face. "For what?"

"You saved my life," he replied. "Deserved a thanks." He wondered if she even knew that she'd probably saved his life those first few hours after he'd sustained that injury.

"You keep makin' a habit of getting into trouble," she replied with a cheeky grin. "'S only fair that I get to save you."

"Yes, it is," he agreed as he pushed himself to his feet.

Rose's smile seemed to grow as she stepped a bit closer to him. "Only fair that you save me, too."

He supposed it was, though he wouldn't go into the technicalities of the situation. He was the Time Lord. She was the companion. It was his duty to do the-

All his thoughts and knowledge disappeared in the instant Rose's lips brushed against his. "Thanks," she said, breathing the word over his lips. And, with a brilliant smile, she turned and left the room, leaving him staring, dumbfounded, in her wake.

* * *

She'd caught the expression on his face, the dazed look in his eyes, before she'd left the room. 

Mentally, she congratulated herself. It wasn't often, after all, that she got the last word.

Or the last kiss.

**THE END**


End file.
